


Sunrises In Our Night

by vaguelyaperson



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Death Threats, F/F, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Violence, Yuuri without glasses, mild blood kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 69,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyaperson/pseuds/vaguelyaperson
Summary: Yuuri's life could have ended that winter. But he returns to the ice, fresh with a new determination to reach his dreams.Except now Yuuri is a vampire. Not only does he have to learn how to handle this new side to him, he has to keep secret a world that may come between him and everyone and everything he loves.





	1. Chapter 1

Viktor was standing too close again.

There was no reason for him to stand so close. Viktor was just saying something correctional about Yuuri’s Eros routine. But how could Yuuri understand what Viktor was saying – something about edges? – when blood pounded in Yuuri’s ears? Viktor placed a soft hand on Yuuri’ shoulder, bringing Yuuri’s entire body to burn with the warmth of Viktor’s touch. The warmth was so inviting, the atmosphere so tempting.

Maybe Viktor already figured Yuuri out and was toying with him before he left. Maybe he didn’t know. Yuuri gulped in air in to calm himself down but it was a mistake. He was so, so hyperaware of everything about Viktor now – his warmth, his scent, his presence…

Yuuri swallowed hard and dry. Too dry. Once upon a time, it felt like, his throat didn’t ache like parched ground. Everything was too stiff and light all at once, and when was the last time he even fed?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

When Viktor drew his hand up Yuuri’s arm, Yuuri could feel all self-control drain away – drowned out by the all-consuming warmth and need and irresistible scent drawing him in towards Viktor…

Yuuri pulled away from Viktor’s touch, and he ran.

* * *

 

The college hired maintenance man, who had allegedly fixed the heaters in the dormitory, had left Yuuri and Phichit’s heater on Fahrenheit. Sure, a working heater was a nice commodity in the dead of January. For one, the boys no longer had to wear socks to bed, much to Phichit’s Instagram celebrated relief. (According to Phichit, anyone who could stand to normally wear socks to bed was on another tier of existence and could not be trusted.)

Still, on the downside, the heater had gotten stuck on Fahrenheit. It was unclear whether this was an issue that the maintenance man could not fix and had decided unimportant, or the man had not noticed all the country flags or other seemingly obvious designs of a university house inhabited entirely by foreign students.

Or at least, foreigners. The previous week, Yuuri finally got his thesis for music theory turned in to the right professor, and he was a few steps closer to receiving his diploma. Phichit was mourning the lost photo opportunity of Yuuri never walking for graduation.

But a more depressing concern was how empty their room felt now.

Expecting to head back to Japan in a few days, Yuuri had already organized his belongings away and stripped the walls of his posters. Well, the posters he had taken down the moment he got back from Nationals. He had only felt even greater disappointment in himself when it was Viktor Nikiforov’s face staring down at him.

The problem was… without Nikiforov’s damn perfect face to help motivate Yuuri, it had become impossible for Phichit to get Yuuri to join him for practice at the rink.

Their days had become thus: Phichit would go to class, practice, hang out with friends, and then come back to Yuuri downing his third microwave burrito for that evening before burrowing himself under his covers.

It honestly felt like the only sign of life in that dorm was Phichit’s hamsters.

And it was driving Phichit up the wall.

That evening, there was a strained sort of quiet that fell over their room, only punctuated by one of Phichit’s hamsters at their wheel, and the soft bass from Yuuri’s headphones. He was pretending to be asleep. It wasn’t working, and Phichit was bored.

“Come on,” Phichit groaned, picking his head up from the back of his swivel chair. (His phone lay limp in his hand where he had just finished looking up tricks of converting Fahrenheit to Celsius.) He fixed Yuuri with a petulant glare, his friend’s fake as fuck sleeping act be damned. “I’m not going to get to see you until the next season – don’t think I’ll let you get away with taking away my competition – so we have to go out!”

Yuuri sighed and pulled out an earbud. “You’re not going to take me to some frat house again, are you?”

“That was one time! We needed the experience. It’s a part of learning American culture, or something like that.”

“You’ve been watching way too many Zac Efron movies again.” Yuuri muttered.

Phichit tapped at his phone. “Look, this time, I found this really nice place. 18+, and its catered to students, so not as many drunk thirty something year olds.”

Yuuri stared at the ceiling. Anything related to alcohol was the last thing he needed right now. He told Phichit as such.

(Yuuri didn’t remember anything from the GPF banquet, but given that he had woken up with one hell of a hangover, he was willing to bet that he had made a miserable fool of himself. There was no way he was going to show his face in public with a red solo of Captain Morgan’s in hand anytime soon.)

Phichit rolled his eyes. “And what do you think I’m going to do? Petition the American government to get with the rest of the world and lower the drinking age?”

Just then, as if to remind the boys of its presence, the heater shuddered. There was an off sounding click, followed by a whirring groan. Both Phichit and Yuuri glanced at it with wary expressions. Phichit was ready to grab the fire extinguisher, if needed. (It was probably needed. There were stories of combustible heating units on that aging campus.)

“Alright!” Phichit jumped up from his chair, and Yuuri followed by at least sitting up in his bed. “I think I’m going to go crazy waiting for that thing to break again.”

Reluctantly, Yuuri could only agree. He had just gotten adjusted to not panicking at the display of 72 degrees. A broken heater was the last thing he needed when his nerves were already so on edge. Or at least, more so than usual.

He stood up and grabbed his jacket. “ _Fine_.”

“Yes!” Phichit cheered. He checked to make sure that his hamsters had sufficient food and water before also grabbing his winter gear. “Ready to make this a night you won’t forget?”

Before Yuuri could sputter out another reminder against drinking, Phichit already had his arm and was out the door.

* * *

 

From the lockers, Yuuri could hear Viktor calling out after him. His voice was fast approaching, signaling that Viktor had left the ice to come after him. Yuuri shoved down all bubbling anxiety over disappointing Viktor, or whatever lecture he was bound to receive for skipping practice, and focused on shoving on his hoodie, sunglasses, gloves…

He nearly got the zipper stuck in his shirt with how fast he yanked it up, and he was already trying to hop to the door while still in the process of pulling on his sneakers. This process was familiar enough – throw on the hood, face mask, make sure everything was in place – that he could have been methodical about it.

But then he could hear Viktor calling out his name again. There was nothing refined about the way Yuuri stumbled past Yuuko – who barely had a chance to ask what was wrong – and burst out into a sprint the second he was out the front door.

Running home got easier the more distance Yuuri put between himself and Viktor. His legs drove him faster and faster until he was safely imprisoned in his room.

(He forgot to lock the door. He wasn’t thinking. Stupid, stupid, stupid.)

Yuuri dove towards his closet. He punched in the numbers to unlock the small fridge there and grabbed the first bag he saw.

He nearly spilled some of the contents with how shakily he tore of the cap. It was cold – he hadn’t let it warm up; he hissed at the first taste. But he was also too hungry to care. That first sip still sparked a complete loss of all his self-control into a downfall of ravenous need. He drained the bag. It wasn’t enough. He was still slowly losing it, and – no. He wouldn’t. He refused to.

Yuuri took a deep breath, unnecessary, but maybe it would ground him. Hands still shaking, he exhaled.

He wasn’t due for another supply in three weeks. With a stroke of carelessness, Yuuri had been trying to deny himself in hopes of making it last, but with Viktor just _there_ all the time, filling every room with his unavoidable, breathtaking presence…

Breath in.

Stupid. So, so stupid.

Exhale uselessly.

When the breathing exercises ultimately failed, Yuuri pulled the one other bag from the fridge. With a quick check, he noted that he had enough quarter-liter bags in the freezer, but the frozen blocks wouldn’t do much good for him right now. Hopefully two bags would be enough for now.

For better measure, he scooted away from the closet and settled by his bed. It made him feel less like a territorial animal, guarding its food. Yuuri managed to unscrew the cap with less fervor – it was slowly becoming easier to think and function as his first drink settled. Feeling a little more in control of himself and the situation (he still forgot about the unlocked door), he took careful and slow sips.

He was halfway through the bag when there was a knock at the door.

Viktor didn’t even wait for a reply. Viktor threw the door open.

“Yuuri, you ran off so suddenly, I – ”

Viktor froze. His wide eyes remained unblinking at the sight before him.

And Yuuri could only imagine what he looked like in that moment. Feeding, Yuuri’s skin tone lost all what could be considered human. It was tinged with gray and silver. The bags under his eyes deepened in color so much that his face appeared sunken.

But that was the least of it.

At that moment, his eyes were a dangerous, feverous red; his canines pointed visibly, still washed with the red of the blood that he held in his hands.

* * *

 

“One more, the lighting here is perfect!” Phichit pulled Yuuri into the crook of his arm, holding up his phone for the twenty seventh round of selfies that night – Yuuri had been counting.

Still, Yuuri had to admit that the streetlight over them offered a warm orange glow that perfectly suited the glitter that Phichit had managed to cover them both with that night at the club. The two sparkled in the frame. As tired as he was, Yuuri obliged to posing again.

Phichit snapped the photo and grinned in appreciation. But before he lowered the phone, Yuuri swore he saw a flash of movement in the background of the scene. He checked over his shoulder, finding nothing but some hammered college students still attempting to sing Disney songs a block or so back from where Yuuri and Phichit stood.

The rest of the dark street stood empty. Barren of life.

Normally, Yuuri’s paranoia would have spiked, but in that moment Phichit had asked about filters, and it provided a comfortable distraction. Yuuri dutifully picked out a filter he liked and tried to ignore the growing sensation of being watched.

That wasn’t breathing he heard behind him, that was the wind. It was windy. Yuuri pulled his coat against himself tighter, as if to prove the point to himself.

“Okay, now one with rainbows!” Phichit selected a happy boarder and held the phone down this time for a different angle. Yuuri chuckled despite himself when Phichit tried to pull off a badass pose to contrast the rainbows. Yuuri was going to have fun. That was the point of this night. To have fun.

He told himself desperately that the stuttered steps from behind them were just the sound of an old creaky pipe. They were walking past some old buildings. It was fine.

(No it wasn’t. Why were they walking this way?)

As much as he tried to focus on what Phichit was saying, everything in his being kept protesting, kept pushing, ‘please, it’s not _okay_ , it’s not _safe_ …’

And then he and Phichit were being dragged into an alley.

They were greeted with the half-illuminated sight of sickly, fanged, burning eye creatures.

Yuuri couldn’t even bring himself to scream.

There were two creatures, only resembling something maybe once human in their anatomy alone. Everything else – the stilted way they moved, the way their eyes glowed deep in wild, hungry expressions – was inhuman in every terrifying sense of the word.

 Yuuri could feel his mind starting to run away from him in dissociated shock, but then one of the creatures had its claws on Phichit. Something seared up from the base of Yuuri’s chest, yanking himself back into his body, back into that moment, and he jolted forward. He grabbed onto Phichit and pulled away with every intention to _run_ and _don’t look back_ –

(He saw the creature’s mouth move, he recognized the glint of a grin in the fading light. He heard nothing of what it said.)

There was a pressure at the back of his neck.

It was sharp, unbearable in an instant. The pain brought forth a mangled scream, but whether anyone heard it…

The edges of his vision went fuzzy and dark, and the wild ferocity of his heartbeat made him sick.

No one was coming, no one heard him, he was going to die, this was it…

No, no, no, he had to get Phichit out of here!

Where was Phichit?

He reached about blindly and strained his senses until he could make out his friend in the clutch of the other creature, struggling to find Yuuri too. The two pulled and struggled and agonized to reach each other. But Phichit was visibly getting weaker by the moment, his arm at first straining forward and then loosely falling against him. Yuuri yanked himself forward, using every bit of strength and stamina that he could muster. The pressure ripped from his neck, leaving a stinging agony in its wake.

But they had to get out of there!

So even as he felt his limbs go languid, even as he rapidly lost his ability to see or breathe, Yuuri tossed as much of his weight away from the danger that he possibly could. The world spun around them – Yuuri could barely tell which way was towards safety.

Phichit’s eyes were losing focus, the lines on the street and sidewalk kept shifting, and Yuuri’s neck still seared in pain. It hurt so bad and there was red all over Phichit’s scarf and just red everywhere.

Yuuri tried to say something to Phichit, tried to call his friend’s name, but words just refused to surface. Thankfully, when he got his arm around his friend to support him, Phichit leaned in and let Yuuri lead. The two stumbled a few steps forward, trying to support each other.

Yuuri tried to shout. It came out as only a lost echo, like in a nightmare where you can’t scream and you can’t run because the ground is tar dragging your legs back…

Cutting through the night, Yuuri heard a croon of laughter from behind him. The sound would never leave his memory. It imprinted itself into Yuuri’s mind and sense of being.  It was a laughter that sent violent tremors of fear and hopelessness up Yuuri’s spine. It was wild and sharp all at once.

And then Yuuri was being dragged backwards, falling, falling towards the concrete, and something was shoved against his mouth.

He tasted something warm and bitter; the taste of it consumed his mouth. It was sharply familiar and not at all, whatever it was it just tasted so, so off.

…

..

.

Everything went dark as Yuuri felt his heart stutter to a stop.

* * *

 

Viktor never screamed.

Even when a low, quiet tremble of a growl escaped Yuuri’s lips. His feeding had been interrupted; he was startled.

No, Yuuri wasn’t some reactive animal. He had to remember that, even when had to coil away from his own family and friends because he was hungry and the whole human race was a goddamned buffet – they weren’t!

So when Viktor – human, guarded, so very important to Yuuri for so long – stepped back, Yuuri gripped all self-control he could muster.

Yuuri lowered the blood bag and, trying not to startle Viktor with any sudden movements, inched away from the door and back towards the closet. He tried to press himself up against the closet door, not enough to break it, just enough to keep some distance between him and the very vulnerable, unmoving man standing in his doorway.

“You… you should leave. Now.” Yuuri bit out the words and stared at the ground, knowing how unsettling his eyes were. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And then Viktor, stupid, affectionate, impulsive Viktor swallowed and slipped back into Yuuri’s room. Yuuri’s head snapped up in shock. He wasn’t done feeding, and Viktor’s scent just filled the room. Yuuri just knew that, with how it permeated the room, he would need to spend hours trying to rid his room of the scent of human and warmth and food…

But Viktor, not knowing how horrible of a temptation he was, kept walking forward.

“Do you…” Viktor’s hand went to the collar of his shirt, and he pulled it down to reveal more of neck and collarbone. He swallowed, and Yuuri watched the movement of his throat, his eyes now trained on it. “Do you need fresher blood?”

Absolute anguish tore through Yuuri’s chest at the sight of Viktor being so gracious and so reckless. He shook his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He repeated. “Please… just… leave me alone.”

Viktor finally paused. His hand slipped from his shirt, and Yuuri hated the disappointment he felt as he watched Viktor’s skin hide away under the fabric again. Hated the way all his senses were still focused on the movement of Viktor’s pulse.

“Alright.” Viktor returned to the door. He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Yuuri waited until he couldn’t hear the defeated footsteps of Viktor’s retreat. He imagined Viktor wandering in shock back towards his room, created in his mind the exact methodical motions with which Viktor was likely packing his bags.

The blood bag slumped from Yuuri’s hands, and Yuuri choked back a sob.

He thought up every horrible thing Viktor could say about him to his family, to warn them, and no matter how much it hurt, Yuuri told himself that he deserved every last accusation.

It was over. Viktor would surely come to his senses and flee, and it was every bit Yuuri’s fault.

Yuuri always knew he was on borrowed time. But there had always been that selfish, stupid part of him that yearned for just a little while longer with Viktor.

Not anymore.

Viktor was surely gone.

It was that stupid, selfish part of Yuuri that consumed him now. He gripped his knees to his chest, and cried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend said that if I included the words 'what if' in my summary, then he was legally not allowed to be my friend anymore. So I didn't.
> 
> But this is still the Yuri on Ice vampire AU that no one asked for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that some people aren't a fan of OCs (I'm a little picky about them, myself), but there's going to be a lot of OCs in this story. Just a heads up now.

_January, Detroit_

 

Even without opening his eyes, Yuuri knew that all the light in the room was artificial.

It buzzed around Yuuri in the way only fluorescent light could, and fell upon his skin without any warmth. Yuuri was also hyperaware of the stiff, plastic-like sheets that he was tucked into, as well as the board of a mattress that was beneath him.

In the moment that he awoke, Yuuri lay like a stone. Everything was still. The only sound was the light fixture.

Yuuri blinked his eyes open; he took in his surroundings. He was in a nondescript room, the walls a nauseating white that reflected the fake light. When he looked to his left, however, he noticed that one of the walls was an old brick wall. It made him think of all the back alleys in the city – just an expanse of musty, darkened brick. (Except it lacked graffiti.) There were no windows. The only door sat in front of the bed.

The sheets on the bed were a gray that were probably a blue at some point, and it was only their synthetic nature that likely kept the moths away for however many years the sheets had been in use. There were no other beds or pieces of furniture, save for a small side stand attached to the right side of the bed. Yuuri’s glasses rested there.

It was a small, jarring space.

Bits and pieces came trickling back into Yuuri’s mind as he studied everything. Once those pieces filled in did the memories send Yuuri flying up into a panic.

He was sitting upright without much thought of how he got there, a slight sensation of weightlessness with his movement. The back of his throat felt dry when he tried to swallow back the threatening panic attack. It didn’t help that he couldn’t feel his heart leap to his throat like when he was normally freaked out about something.

Remembering everything that had just happened, Yuuri’s hands went to his neck. He ran his fingers all over the skin and found… nothing. There was no bandage or abrasion or anything.

Yuuri started to shake when the memories came to a black end and he couldn’t recall anything about ending up in this room. He had no idea how long he had been there. What happened, in the alley, with those… those _things_ felt like last night. But was it?

Nothing came to mind. Yuuri’s touch to his own neck tightened to a strong grip. He tried to swallow again. The dryness in his throat was now becoming a nagging ache.

There was a knock at the door. Yuuri’s entire attention snapped towards the sound, which seemed to echo off the reflective white walls. He squinted a moment, the details of the door a little fuzzy. One of his hands fell down from his neck to fumble for his glasses.

There was another knock.

“Yuuri? Is it alright for me to come in?”

The voice was distinct and instantly recognizable. Relief fought back a bit of the panic.

“Celestino?” Yuuri called back. His voice scratched. Still too dry. He licked his lips, although it did little to help.

“It’s me, yeah.” Celestino replied. “Can I come in?”

Yuuri blindly found his glasses and put them on. His vision cleared. “Er, yes. You may.”

Celestino creaked the door open. His familiar face was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Yuuri chanced a smile as he reminded himself to breathe – it was going to be alright. His coach, or at least, his soon to be former coach, was here.

Still, Yuuri was nervous enough that he was suddenly aware of the sound of his heartbeat, along with blood rushing in his ears.

There came a new smell into the blank room as Celestino walked in with careful steps. But Yuuri couldn’t quite see what was outside of the room, as Celestino closed the door behind him. He didn’t step away from the door though.

The first thing that Yuuri now noticed about Celestino was that he was wearing a grand, golden crucifix. A little unusual, but somewhat understandable. Yuuri already knew that Celestino was Catholic, even if Celestino was usually quiet about his faith. Since he had students from across the globe, he preferred to keep such ostentatious symbols tucked away.

But while Yuuri was still wondering about the crucifix, he caught a look of his coach’s face.

Yuuri might have felt cursed with the ability to be so sensitive to how other people perceived him, but sometimes, it came in handy. From Celestino’s guarded expression to the way he hovered, square shouldered, near the door, there was something wrong. Yes, Yuuri concluded in that moment, there was definitely something wrong with himself.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Celestino asked, visibly making his own shoulders relax.

“What happened?” Yuuri snapped back. He gripped the sheets with the hand not still resting on his neck. Though, both hands were tense.

Celestino’s poor attempt at a casual smile fell from his face. The heartbeat that Yuuri was attuned to sped up a little.

“What do you remember?”

Yuuri shook his head. He stared at the old, faded sheet. “Phichit and I were walking back to campus… some… something attacked us. An animal, I think?” Something clicked and Yuuri’s head shot back up. “Phichit! He got hurt! Is he okay? Where is he?”

“Phichit has recovered. He lost a lot of blood, but, luckily, we got to him in time.”

Yuuri’s throat ached as he swallowed again. “B-but me?”

Celestino tilted his head and stared long and hard with a severity so unfamiliar to Yuuri.

“Do you believe in the supernatural?”

The first thing that came to Yuuri’s head was all those stories of _youkai_ that his mother had brought him up with, and all the fictional books or manga he read when he had the time. Any kid always suspected that these things truly existed, but that belief usually petered out over time and simmered away to become superficial yet unquestioned superstitions. The explanations for nature’s unpredictability became more of philosophical talking points than anything else. The idea of transmutability or the need to respect nature, for who knew how it could wreak havoc…

What about the supernatural? It had been so long since Yuuri had given these things serious thought. He had no idea how to answer Celestino’s odd question.

“What attacked you and Phichit were not human.” Celestino then said, not waiting for Yuuri to answer his question. “You’re right about that. But they weren’t animals either.”

Cold dread creeped up through Yuuri, and he froze. His voice was lost to him.

“They were vampires.” Celestino admitted. “And while we were able to rescue Phichit in time… for whatever reason, they took an interest in you. One forced you to drink some of its blood and now… Yuuri, I am truly sorry. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Who’s ‘we?’” was the only thing Yuuri managed to choke out.

Celestino frowned. He then pulled out a glass vial, and on it, Yuuri recognized a line art of two stags up on their hind legs, a symbol of Michigan. The vial contained what looked like water, and it hung from Celestino’s hand by a silver chain.

“The Night Patrollers of Detroit.” Celestino explained. “I am not a part of their organization, but I registered with them when I moved here. They informed me that they had found two of my skaters… and they had already taken care of the vampires who attacked you and Phichit. Fortunate for them, apparently they had been trying to track down those two rogues for a year.”

“V-vampire hunters?”

Celestino nodded.

“Are you… a… a hunter like them?”

“No, absolutely God no.” Celestino put the little vial back in his pocket. “I come from a family of hunters, but my heart has always belonged to the ice. But don’t worry about me. I can hold my own.”

Celestino then blinked and fixed Yuuri with another curious stare. “You’re rather calm. You do understand what I’m trying to tell you, right?”

It wasn’t like Yuuri didn’t understand. He was just refusing to believe any of it was real. In a moment, he would wake up and it would have all been a bad dream. Then he would hug Phichit goodbye, and head back home to Japan.

There was just no way that vampires existed, or that his coach – who notoriously couldn’t sit through any horror movie – belonged to a family of vampire hunters. And there was absolutely no possibility whatsoever that Yuuri… that Yuuri was now…

“I’ll let you process everything. And you must be thirsty.”

“Yes.” That scorching dryness in his mouth and throat still hadn’t abated. He even felt a little lightheaded.

“I’ll… get you something.” At that, Celestino backed up and left the room. He closed the door behind him.

Once Celestino had gone, Yuuri pulled the sheets back with an audible crinkle and got off the bed. He was barefoot and wore only light blue pajamas. The floor was age washed concrete.

He padded around the room, which had returned to the quiet buzz of the ceiling lights. Finally he had calmed down enough that he could no longer hear his own heartbeat. Good. It was starting to drive him a little up the wall.

But just as long as he kept reassuring himself that it was all just a dream, he wouldn’t start panicking again.

At one point he walked towards the door in a thought to leave the room and check outside, but he decided against it. If he was going to wake up soon, then there was little point of exploring more of the unfamiliar building. Still, he ran his hand along the brick wall, and marveled at his mind’s ability to perfectly recreate the texture. There was even a crack that had been likely filled in a long time ago, and Yuuri could trace his finger along the sandstone mortar.

The white walls, when Yuuri went to inspect them, were just simple painted drywall. He knocked on the wall, and it sounded like it was against something, but he couldn’t tell for sure. There was no noise filtering in from outside of the room.

He was following a thin crack in the floor, which ran along the length of the small room, when Celestino returned. He held a brown paper bag, out of which stuck out a thick plastic straw. The top of the bag was scrunched shut around the straw by a rubber band.

Yuuri found the bag oddly unnecessary for a simple drink, but he accepted it when Celestino offered it to him.

With Celestino back in the room, Yuuri’s heartbeat skipped back up audibly again. That new smell again permeated the room, and Yuuri scrunched up his nose when he realized that the bag gave off a great bit of that smell. It wasn’t a _bad_ smell. Just different. In fact, it was very enticing. Must be some sort of new recovery drink.

Yuuri took a small sip from the straw. The liquid was warm and had a nice tang. It was strange, but it tasted like he was drinking a thick steak, fresh from the grill. He was rather surprised that he liked the flavor.

He went back to the bed and continued to drink the unusually delicious sport drink, or whatever it was. Not only was he enjoying it, but it soothed his mouth and throat like only an ice cold drink on a summer’s day could. He could also feel it energizing him, bringing a steady buzz of vitality to his restless and lazy limbs.

“Mm,” Yuuri couldn’t but to help hum in satisfaction. “What is this stuff, Ciao Ciao? Is some new sort of protein shake?”

But when he looked up, he saw that Celestino wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring at the far wall, away from Yuuri, with a certain kind of determinedness. He was gripping his crucifix.

The room narrowed in that way it always did when Yuuri wore glasses of the wrong prescription. Celestino tilted in his vision. Yuuri slowly slid his glasses down. The room came back into perfect focus. His hand returned to the bag.

“I’m sorry, but I still… I find it rather unsettling to watch… watch you feed.” Celestino said.

Yuuri halted on his way to take another sip. His hands began to shake as he pulled off the rubber band. Still keeping a distance from him, Celestino made a small, wounded noise.

Yuuri still reached into the paper bag and felt a stiff, thinner plastic pouch. He lifted it from the paper bag.

The moment Yuuri saw the angry, dark red of the bag’s contents, he screamed.

* * *

Yuuri never did wake up from the nightmare.

He spent the next day doing the best he could to curl into the petrified sheets. His glasses were returned to the small side stand, unneeded.

Otherwise seemingly alone, only Celestino came to check on Yuuri. Although Celestino said they were on a Night Patrollers’ base, Yuuri did not hear or see any evidence of other people. In an odd way, that was the only comfort he received in his solitary confinement. The less people there were, the less Yuuri was a danger to anyone.

Celestino tried to convince Yuuri that just as long as a vampire was well fed, then they would have no problem whatsoever interacting with humans. The Night Patrollers had legally acquired donated blood on sight, after all. At first, it seemed like Celestino had found a point to encourage Yuuri from his coffin of questionable linens. But when Celestino couldn’t answer if the person who gave the blood intended for it to be drank by a vampire or not, Yuuri shook his head and retreated further into the covers.

“You can’t stay like this forever.” Celestino had sighed. But he left Yuuri alone for a while.

Without any natural light in the room, Yuuri couldn’t tell the time. He wasn’t quite sure if Celestino had left for just a few hours or even for an entire night. Yuuri had no clue what day or time it was when Celestino finally knocked on the door and let himself back into the room.

The unmistakable scent of blood followed Celestino and the thrum of a heartbeat into the room (which Yuuri had learned was Celestino’s – Yuuri had no heartbeat now.) Yuuri peeked out from the covers just to glare at the unwanted intrusion.

“Alright,” Celestino held up the brown bag. “A staff member has willingly donated her blood for the express purpose of getting you out of that bed. She ran it by the higher-ups, and as long as you drink this, then you can leave this room.”

Yuuri pressed his head back into the ungiving pillow. “Why?” He grumbled.

“So you can go see Phichit.”

Yuuri perked up immediately.

Celestino chuckled a short moment. “Thought that would get your attention.”

“Phichit’s here?”

“Well, we couldn’t exactly check him into a regular hospital. The Patrollers have a clinic here. And therapeutic services, thank God. But since Phichit no longer has an open wound, and he’s seemed to recover well enough… you’re allowed to see him. Granted, of course…”

Yuuri’s eyes fell back to the horribly enticing brown paper bag. “Granted that I drink that.”

Celestino nodded and held the bag out towards Yuuri. Slowly, Yuuri retreated from the bed for the first time in over a day, and padded his way over. He scrunched up his nose, still not particularly a fan of how much he was drawn in by the scent – when he cared to admit as such.

The closer he got to the bag, though, the more Yuuri wanted to shrink back.

Just to give a little extra encouragement, Celestino added, “Phichit’s has been asking to see you... well, more like demanding.”

Yuuri paused. His eyes turned up towards Celestino’s face. “Does… does he know?”

“Yes. And he claims that he needs to see you face to face.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but to smile a little at that. Classic trusting, supportive Phichit.

He bit his lip, and then reached for the bag. “Alright.”

The blood tasted and felt just as great as it did the first time. The only difference was that while his first drink brought him some much-needed vitality, the second drink made him feel overstuffed and a little on edge. It was as if he had just visited one too many food stalls at an evening festival, and then downed an energy drink just as the sun lowered in the sky. Yuuri found himself bouncing on his feet a little.

He couldn’t really check with Celestino to make sure this was normal, because his coach looked away from Yuuri just as he did the first time. That only fed Yuuri’s paranoia. He had no idea what he looked like when he fed, but if it was so bad that Celestino couldn’t even look at him…

Still, once Yuuri was finished, Celestino dutifully let Yuuri out the room.

The first thing that Yuuri discovered was that this so-called super-secret base was just in an abandoned warehouse. Once outside of the room, Yuuri could hear footsteps and distant conversations. When he looked back, Yuuri saw that his cell of a room was built up with wooden beams and soundproof padding. That would explain why heard so little of human activity from before.

The door to the room was locked with a key code.

There were three other structures like the one Yuuri was kept in, all bunched together. Four tiny prison cells for vampires, he realized.

The open floor of the warehouse smelled a lot different from the stale room. Not only had Yuuri started recognizing the scent of Celestino walking beside him – a new and strange sensation, being able to recognize a person by their scent – Yuuri was now surrounded with a mix of new scents. It all smelled like a dizzying mixture of rust and… _people_. But nothing smelled like blood, for which Yuuri was grateful.

Still, he was curious, so Yuuri brought it up to Celestino.

“It’s a spray. It’s required for all the Patrollers and the people they protect. It sort of… masks our scent? Makes us less tempting.” Celestino tried for a lighthearted grin, but Yuuri only stared straight ahead and nodded absently.

It was weird to see everything so clearly without his glasses resting on his face. Yuuri didn’t even have much experience with contacts. It felt a little too otherworldly… among other things.

The two walked along the floor of the warehouse and passed other makeshift dividers. There was a similar setup to the ‘vampire holding’ rooms on the other side of the warehouse floor, and Celestino pointed out that it was the clinic. He shook his head when Yuuri asked if that was where Phichit was.

“If he was, they would have never let you go see him. They don’t allow vampires inside the clinic. Too risky. No, he’s in the lounge.”

The lounge, as it turned out, was tucked away on the other side of the building, near the warehouse main entrance. It was one of the few actual rooms in the warehouse, save for some offices and – from how Celestino described it – an incredibly outdated and misused kitchen.

There was better lighting closer to the entrance of the warehouse, though Yuuri didn’t see any windows. He still had no idea what time of day it was. Celestino led him through a door and Yuuri was a little surprised to learn that the lounge itself just looked like the comfier version of a hospital waiting room. There were standard solid print chairs and couches, as well as tables covered in magazines and board games. The room was rectangular, with a beaten up, hand-me-down foosball table sitting near the door, and a box television at the far end.

A warm comfort filled Yuuri when he recognized the program playing on the tv as one of Phichit’s favorite American dramas.

Sure enough, facing away from the lounge entrance, Phichit was sitting on a couch and watching the screen. There was a bandage around his neck.

Celestino ushered Yuuri a little further into the room, and Yuuri noticed the only other person there. A man with greasy long hair, wearing a leather jacket, and jeans held up by one too many belts was lazing on a chair close to the door. He was flipping through a magazine, but looked up to shoot a glare at Yuuri. When Yuuri noticed both a gun and a sheathed dagger attached to one of the man’s belts, Yuuri shrunk back.

“It’s alright, Red. He’s allowed to be here.” Celestino said in a low, warning tone.

Red grunted, his eyes never leaving Yuuri.

“Is it aware of the consequences if it steps out of line?” Red tilted his head and let a hand rest on the dagger.

Yuuri tried not to tremble. Instead, he kept his hands clasped in front of himself and his head bowed just enough to seem unthreatening.

“ _He_ will receive classes, yes. Your threats are rather unhelpful.” Celestino clipped back.

“Yuuri!”

They all turned to see Phichit jumping up from the couch. He made a beeline for Yuuri.

“You’re here! Finally!”

Red also leaped from his chair. He threw himself between Yuuri and Phichit, just as Phichit was about to hold his arms out for a hug.

“You should stay back,” Red growled. “That’s not your friend anymore.”

Oh. Yuuri deflated a little. That stung.

Phichit, however, was equally – if not more – offended. Without a second thought, Phichit sidestepped Red. “Are you kidding me? I’ve known this guy for years. That’s Yuuri alright.”

And then Phichit was pulling Yuuri into an embrace. In that moment, Yuuri feel alright for the first time in what felt like forever. It was the easiest thing ever for Yuuri to throw himself into the hug and just pretend that they were back on campus and there wasn’t a guard there ready to keep Yuuri from ‘stepping out of line.’

Not once, even as Phichit’s scent filled the air, did Yuuri think of his friend as food. Phichit’s pulse thrummed right next to Yuuri’s ear, reassuring him that his friend was safe and alive. Dancing around him, Phichit’s scent was lighter than Celestino’s, yet the _roundness_ of it – Yuuri had just now decided that there just didn’t exist the right words to describe scent, whether in English or Japanese – reminded Yuuri of the smell of a receding rainstorm. It was a subtle, comfortable scent. Yuuri liked it.

“I was so worried about you!” Phichit said when the two finally leaned back from the hug.

“I was worried about you too.” Yuuri’s brows upturned in concern; he gestured to the bandage on Phichit’s neck. “How are you?”

“Much better,” Phichit beamed. “These guys are so efficient! Plus, there’s this support group that meets here every Sunday, for people who’ve been attacked, right? I sat in on the group last night, and it was so helpful! I would have gotten a group photo to show you, if it weren’t for confidentiality issues, you know.”

Yuuri breathed out and relaxed, an easy smile slipping back onto his face.

“Anyways, some of the Patrollers here kept saying some real messed up stuff about you.” Phichit shot Red an accusatory look, which Red ignored for returning to his magazine. “They kept trying to warn me that the transformation can change people, and that you might not be the person you were before… I told them that I had to see for myself. You honestly don’t look any different!”

That was wonderful news. At least, now Yuuri knew that outside of feeding, there was nothing unsettling about him. He still hadn’t had the chance to see himself. Then again, could he even see his own reflection?

“I told you he wouldn’t look different to you,” Celestino spoke up. “It takes a trained eye to spot the differences. Outside of feeding, of course.”

“Whoa, can I watch you feed?” Phichit’s hand itched towards his phone pocket.

Yuuri grimaced. That was not a photograph he would particularly enjoy seeing, much less know it was saved in Phichit’s phone.

“He just ate.” Celestino said on Yuuri’s behalf. Yuuri flashed him a grateful smile.

“And I’m not quite used to it yet.” Yuuri added.

“Fine, fine,” Phichit pretended to pout.

It was more than Yuuri could have ever asked for to have Phichit on his side, but he didn’t want to stay on the topic of his recent transformation into a blood drinking creature of the night. He pointed to the television.

“What episode is that?” 

Phichit lit up over the talk of one of his favorite shows: a crime drama – a rather over-dramatized one at that, with liberal use of camera zooms and at least one crying jag every episode. Still, one of the main characters was Vietnamese; Phichit had gotten so excited to see a Southeast Asian protagonist on American television, that it didn’t matter that he usually didn’t watch such a gritty genre. He and Yuuri went over to sit down on the couch, and together they watched the rest of the episode.

Red and Celestino still hovered, and Yuuri could still make out the heartbeat of each person in the room, but otherwise it felt like another relaxing afternoon with Phichit. When Yuuri scratched at his hair absently, he found some leftover glitter from their night out - before everything went to hell, that felt like forever ago. Phichit had laughed and called him a Cullen, to which Yuuri had teased him for even knowing who the Cullens were.

It was incredibly wonderful to rediscover a sense of normalcy.

“Is this that show you were telling me about, Phichit?”

Phichit and Yuuri turned around to see a short, blonde woman step into the room. Opposed to Red and Celestino’s, her heartbeat was perfectly calm – just like Phichit’s, though, Yuuri expected an athlete like Phichit to have a steady pulse.

The woman walked up to the couch on which the boys sat. They both stood up in respect when she came around to stand in front of the couch.

“Yeah, right around when the Captain gets framed.” Phichit answered. The woman nodded, seeming to understand the reference. Her demeanor was effortlessly kind – only aided by the pink, nurse-like scrubs that she wore. The woman then looked at Yuuri, her smile not wavering a moment.

“You must be Yuuri,” she greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s good to meet you in person.”

Yuuri shook her hand.

“This is Ms. Grant.” Phichit introduced for her. “She’s the counselor here for the Patrollers, and she’s been helping me with my recovery.”

“It’s very nice to meet you too.” Yuuri nodded, hoping he extended Ms. Grant enough of his gratitude. It meant the world to Yuuri that Phichit was okay.

Though, there was something familiar about Ms. Grant, but Yuuri couldn’t quite place what. He started to scrunch his nose a bit before it hit him that it wasn’t her appearance that was so familiar. Just as he made the connection, she seemed to follow his thinking.

Ms. Grant pushed back the sleeve on her left arm, displaying the band-aid there.

“Yes, I did,” She said, answering his unspoken question.

Yuuri’s mouth popped open in surprise.

“It got you out of that room, didn’t it?” Ms. Grant winked. Phichit chuckled.

“In my defense, I didn’t tell her to donate her blood to you.” Phichit said.

“No, I donated entirely of my own volition.” Ms. Grant’s brow quirked up then, and she looked up at Yuuri with a stern gaze. “And this will be the only time I do so. I can’t, for the sake of my own health, continuously give you my blood. So, Yuuri, you need to start using the donated blood that the Patrollers already have. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mam.” Yuuri nodded, thinking there was no other way of responding to this woman giving him such a look. With her being shorter than him and a bit plump, he was reminded of his mother. “I understand.”

“Good.” She reached up and patted his cheek. Her ease with him was very comforting.

“Quit being soft with it!” Red barked out, still sitting in his chair. “And you call yourself a Patroller.”

Ms. Grant turned on Red, her hands going to her hips. “As soon as you stop sneaking those erotic magazines into work, I’ll consider taking your criticism, _Herbert_.”

Celestino disguised his snort as a cough. Phichit did not extend such grace.

Red glowered. He stood up, swiped up another magazine, and left the room.

Ms. Grant turned back to Yuuri. “Don’t mind Red too much, dear. He just gets overprotective of us, is all. I promise he won’t hurt you. I can’t imagine that you’d give him any reason to.”

“Okay,” Yuuri nodded again, dumbly. He wasn’t sure if he was reassured or if he was suddenly worried anew over what potential thing he could do that would bring Red to action.

“Anyways, I’m glad Phichit and I were able to get you out of that room in time. Tomorrow morning, Phichit is cleared to leave here and go back to campus.”

Phichit gestured to his bandage, wearing a conflicted expression. “I still have stitches, so I won’t be able to return to the ice for another week or so, though.”

“Oh, but at least you get to see your hamsters again.” Yuuri reminded him, trying to cheer his friend.

It had the desired effect: Phichit beamed. He whipped out his phone, switching to a text chat with their dorm neighbor – an incredibly chill and reliable guy from Zimbabwe. From the chat, Phichit pulled up a picture of his hamsters sitting happy in their cage, with plenty of food and water.

“First chance I got, I asked Sydney, and he’s been sending me updates. I gotta remember to get him something.”

“It’s going to be good to see them again.” Yuuri said, smiling at the picture.

Phichit’s smile wavered.

“Well… the Patrollers said that you’re not allowed to leave just yet.” Phichit admitted.

Yuuri looked at Ms. Grant, and she confirmed it with a nod. “You still have classes to take. Don’t worry, we’re not going to keep you here forever. But you need to need to receive training before you’re allowed to leave the facility.”

“Oh,” Yuuri frowned. “That makes sense. So I’m going to learn all about… how to deal with this?” He gestured to his mouth, mimicking a snarl.

“Yes, dear.”

Celestino coughed. “Aren’t the instructors a bit too much into the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine?”

Ms. Grant laughed. “That is their style, yes. It works, though, I must admit.”

Phichit put his phone back in his pocket and placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Khan Grant here says I can visit you, outside of your classes.”

“And these should be good classes for you, dear. I’m sure you’d like to know how to handle everything now.” Ms. Grant said.

Yuuri nodded. He was pretty deep in something that was overwhelmingly unfamiliar to him. Even though these classes sounded mandatory for him to receive his freedom, Yuuri found himself agreeing with the need to take them. In fact, he was increasingly grateful he was granted such a privilege by the Patrollers. With people like Red around, Yuuri could imagine that it wouldn’t be easy to push for such benefits towards vampires into the system.

“Er, who will be teaching the course, if I may ask?” Yuuri asked. Celestino’s comment about the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine had made him curious.

“Oh, that would be the Williams.” Ms. Grant answered. “They’re very professional, so you’re in capable hands. Ciara and Alexa have been working with the Patrollers for, hm, I would say about twenty years… the past ten of which they’ve been married. They make an excellent team.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Ms. Grant smiled, as if Yuuri had any actual say in the terms of his freedom. It was a nice sentiment anyways. “Good, good. I need to finish my night rounds. Again, Yuuri, it was nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” he said. They shook hands again. Phichit waved. And then Ms. Grant turned to leave.

With her back to him, something peculiar on Ms. Grant’s neck caught Yuuri’s attention. When he took a second look, he saw jagged white scars – just barely visible against Ms. Grant’s pale skin. With her hair up in a bun, Yuuri could tell that the scars were scattered crescents, trailing from her hairline to down beneath the collar of her shirt.

Neither Phichit or Celestino gave any attention to Ms. Grant’s neck, so Yuuri quickly averted his own eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive critiques are welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is about 90% OCs, 60% my own bs vampire lore, and at least 47% Yuuri being an anxious bean

The first time Yuuri met his instructors, he was sitting in the kitchen with Phichit – who was eating breakfast before Red was to drive him back to campus. The place at which they sat was just a collection of yard sale café tables littered around the kitchen, offering a sort of dining room for Patrollers working long shifts. Phichit and Yuuri were just experimenting with Yuuri’s ability to still eat ‘human’ food when Mrs. and Mrs. Williams strolled into the kitchen.

Even though Yuuri was not usually the one for stereotypes, he understood right away what Celestino meant about ‘good cop, bad cop,’ and he could immediately distinguish who played which role.

The previous night, Ms. Grant had told Yuuri that the Williams had been working with the Patrollers for twenty years.

Ciara Williams wore those two decades on her like a badge. Yuuri heard her heels before she turned the corner into the threshold of the kitchen. Her steel gray suit and black coat was pressed and fitted without a fault, and her hair was straightened and short. She wore only eyeliner, but even that touch of makeup made her olive eyes striking. When these eyes landed on Yuuri, he had the immediate urge to stand to attention and then drop and do twenty.

And then Ciara’s wife walked into the room. Alexa Williams could have been holding a plate of brownies, and Yuuri would have seen absolutely nothing wrong with the picture. She also wore a suit – dark blue – but it was noticeably a size too big and probably from K-Mart. Her neatly locked hair was in a ponytail, but she didn’t wear any makeup. Alexa had her hands in her suit jacket, wearing an easy smile.

“Katsuki!” Ciara barked out.

Yuuri nearly dropped the piece of toast that was somewhat in his mouth. Even Phichit froze.

Ciara marched up to the table at which the boys sat; she slapped a thick folder onto the table.

“Happy death day,” she declared. “As of three days ago, you may consider yourself dead. Congratulations. Here’s your prize.”

She pushed the folder towards Yuuri.

Alexa came up from behind Ciara, and stood next to her wife at the table.

“Don’t worry, there aren’t any obituaries in your name. It’s cool.” Alexa said. She then tapped the folder. “This has everything you need know.”

“Meaning, you’ll need to memorize all of it.” Ciara said, her eyes narrowed.

Yuuri was still frozen with the piece of toast in his hand. Alexa noticed, causing her to grin.

“How is it? Have you tried it yet?” She asked.

“Er,” was all Yuuri could supply, feeling rather whiplashed.

“Go on,” Alexa urged. So Yuuri took a nibble of the toast. It tasted like normal bread… but dryer? The butter was probably the only thing that tasted okay though, but it was so plain in flavor. Yuuri grimaced when he swallowed it. The bread went down like a mouthful of saltine crackers.

“Yeah,” Alexa chuckled. “That’s probably about right. Don’t worry, bro, I’ve been told that not all foods are hard to eat.”

“Alright then, you’ve had your try of something other than blood. Enough stalling.” Ciara crossed her arms.

Alexa harrumphed. “Baby, his friend’s leaving today. Let them at least have a moment before you go off and ring the school bell.”

Ciara stared at her wife. “You know for a fact that if Katie gets her way, then they’ll be seeing each other this evening. No need for goodbyes.”

Was that Ms. Grant’s name, Katie? Yuuri wondered.

“Yeah,” Alexa allowed. “But what if you had to be away from me for a whole day?”

“That’s not,” Ciara started, in protest to the puppy dog face that Alexa was pulling off. “They’re just… it’s not like…” Her eyes shut, and she sighed. “ _Fine_.”

So Yuuri and Phichit were allowed a few minutes to hug and wish each other the best of luck. Yuuri reminded Phichit, adamantly, to follow doctor’s orders and not try to sneak into the gym or ice rink for practice that week. As much as he obviously missed the ice, Phichit reassured Yuuri that he was taking his recovery seriously.

It was hard to be absolutely certain that his friend would be okay. Even knowing that the over-protective Red would be guarding Phichit all the way back to campus, worry still nagged at Yuuri as he walked from the kitchen.

The informational folder clutched in Yuuri’s hands was the last thing on his mind as he tried to mentally argue away all the not-so-helpful scenarios his head was providing. What if Phichit wasn’t safe alone in the dorm room? And the walk between their dorm building and the rink was pretty decent. They had to pass a couple thin alleys.

Above all, with the way Celestino, Red, and even Ciara had acted around Yuuri, he wondered if _he_ should be allowed around Phichit. Even if Celestino was right, and Yuuri was safe to be around as long as he was well fed – which, honestly, made Yuuri feel like he was being likened to a wild animal – how did Yuuri’s presence affect Phichit _mentally_? Did seeing Yuuri bring up horrible flashbacks for Phichit, and he was just too nice to say anything?

It couldn’t be easy to be nearly killed by vampires and then wake up to find out that your best friend had become the exact type of monster that had attacked you. Maybe Yuuri should encourage Phichit to stay at school. Maybe Yuuri should stay away…

Yuuri was ripped out of his toxic, self-degrading thoughts when he was marched into another – albeit small, office – room and instructed to sit down at a school desk. There was a desk on each side of him, and in front of him was a screen and an old video projector. Covering the entire left wall was a dark green curtain. Soft rectangular glows behind the curtain alerted Yuuri to there being windows. Alexa went to work turning on the projector, which honestly looked like it was at least ten years old.

“What do you know about the Patrollers?” Ciara asked, leaning against the wall next to the screen. The way she threw the question at Yuuri, though, made it feel like an interrogation. The atmosphere of desks and old school tech made Yuuri tense like he was just subjected to a test that he hadn’t studied for.

He glanced nervously between Alexa and Ciara before answering. “Er… that you protect Detroit and help people if they’ve been attacked by a vampire?”

“Right!” Alexa said. She clicked something, and the projector stuttered to life, displaying the blue background of the laptop it was connected to. She then started to pull up a power point.

“The Night Patrollers of Detroit are a state funded law enforcement group.” Ciara elaborated. “Meaning, that we follow Michigan’s laws on how to deal with vampires. Now I don’t know how Japan deals with vampires, so you’re going to have to learn another set of laws if you ever want to return to your country.”

Yuuri looked down at the folder on his desk. He flipped it open. Pages and pages of tiny text swirled up at him. Another set of laws? Well, good thing he was well versed in studying habits. That and with his skating career mid-jump out the window, he was going to have a lot more free time.

“The first thing you should know about our laws is that your damned lucky to be alive, Mr. Katsuki. By Michigan law, if a human does not vouch for a vampire within 48 hours of them being turned, then the vampire is to be eliminated.” Ciara looked down at him without tilting down her head. “And the deadline used to be 24 hours.”

Yuuri gulped and nodded. He would have to do something for Celestino to show his gratitude.

“It’s because a lot of cities up north have had problems with vampire gangs.” Alexa explained. “Turning droves of people into vampires to make small armies. It started during prohibition, when mob bosses wanted hands who didn’t have a taste for alcohol. The practice continued until about the 70s or so, when the government finally took action.”

“It’s different in the South. Down there, vigilantes would have cut you down on sight.” Ciara said.

Yuuri resisted to urge to rub protectively at his own neck. His mind flashed back to the weapons that Red carried. He didn’t see any on the Williams, but Ciara could have anything tucked away under her trenchcoat. His fingers tapped a little uselessly on the desk.

Alexa finally got the power point up, and she clicked to the first slide. Displayed was a bullet point list of the history of vampires. The abbreviated history of vampires. The abridged version of the abbreviated history of vampires, more like. Yuuri squinted at it just knowing how much effort it likely took to fit thousands of years worth of history onto one slide.

What came as the next surprise to Yuuri – besides his wonder at the short overview – was that vampires were just about considered their own species. They had existed alongside humans for tens of thousands of years.

“There are two different types of vampires. True borns, and humans-turned-vampire. Here in America, we call them ‘risers.’” Alexa then looked up from the laptop to give Yuuri with a somewhat apologetic grin. “That’s what Ciara meant about your death day. To become a vampire, you technically kick the bucket first. But then you ‘rise’ and ‘come back to life,’ per say.”

Ciara clicked to the next slide, which was about the difference between true borns and risers, but she gave it only a fleeting bit of her attention.

“As a riser, all you need to know about true borns is that they have the final say. I will only tell you this once: if I were you, Mr. Katsuki, I would not cross a true born. They are a proud race. They do not show any mercy to upstart risers.”

Yuuri’s fingers paused at that. He checked down at his folder, which held very little information elaborating on Ciara’s warning. Nothing on what sounded like one of the biggest takeaways from this class.

His index finger resumed tapping the desk.

Noticing that he had nothing to write down notes with, Alexa fished in her coat pocket. She retrieved a pen and handed it to Yuuri. He thanked her, and then still scribbled down what Ciara and Alexa had to add.

The rest of the lesson just continued to enunciate how far Yuuri had fallen to second class citizen, just over one night. His hand flew over the margins of papers and papers of regulations and warnings, just trying to keep up with all that he was learning.

Vampires were immortal. Vampires were difficult to kill. But true borns appeared forever young for centuries. Risers aged nightmarishly with their decades of blood lust. True borns, at their strongest, could push a truck like it was a shopping cart. Risers, if they weren’t kept fed, reverted into mindless, graceless animals. Little more than staggering corpses, out for blood.

Yuuri heard the message loud and clear: vampires were shuffled off to the side and kept under careful watch because they were dangerous and unpredictable.

Head swimming again, Yuuri allowed the Williams to escort him back to his ‘room.’ Alexa reminded Yuuri that Katie – affirmed to be Ms. Grant – would swing by later when Phichit came by to visit. At first, Yuuri perked up at the reminder, but then his oh so wonderful imagination started offering him every reason as to why Phichit would hate to ever step foot in that warehouse again.

By the time Ms. Grant knocked on the door, Yuuri had returned to his bed tomb and he refused to come out.

He swore he could hear Ms. Grant sigh from outside the door before she let herself inside.

“Did the Williams go a little overboard today?” She asked, standing in the door frame. Yuuri noted that she didn’t close the door behind her the way Celestino would. That little detail helped. The room felt a little less like a prison cell with Ms. Grant there.

Yuuri sat up. He fumbled for his glasses for a moment before he remembered that he didn’t need them. 

“No,” he replied, with a shake of his head. Truly, he appreciated the Patrollers for offering the class. Sure, Ciara did revel in the ‘bad cop’ role a bit too much, but Yuuri had always thrived best under strict, honest guidance.

(When people were too nice, it left too much room for Yuuri to fill in the gaps of what he was _likely_ doing wrong. Meaning by _likely_ – everything.)

Ms. Grant nodded; she gestured to the bed, silently asking for permission to sit down. Yuuri scooted over to give her room.

“So, what has you so rooted here?”

Yuuri stared at the floor beneath his still bare feet. (He still wore that weird blue uniform get-up.) If he admitted, ‘I’m worried Phichit is scared of me, and for good reason,’ then Ms. Grant would be obligated by social custom to reassure Yuuri that everything was fine.

But somehow, she caught onto his train of thought before he could even find the words.

“You’re helping Phichit by hanging out with him, did you know that?” She said.

Yuuri’s head snapped up at that, bewilderment written all over his face.

Ms. Grant smiled. “It makes it easier on him,” she said, “to distinguish between civil vampires and rogue vampires. You’re no less sentient than we homo sapiens are. See, one of the biggest hurdles victims have to get past is the fear of the unknown. If they pass someone on the street, could that person be a vampire? And, if so, will that vampire attack them? For Phichit to know you, to watch you adjust to this new form, and still be reassured of your… well, to be honest, your humanity… it’s helping him more than you could ever know.”

That didn’t entirely make sense to Yuuri. If anything, wouldn’t he being a vampire only prove the point that anyone on the street could be a vampire? More so…

“Aren’t risers like me… the ones more prone to become rouge? Mrs. Williams said that the reason those rouges that attacked Phichit and I looked the way they did was because they had fallen into their ‘maddened nature.’”

“Risers are no more likely to abuse their nature than true borns are.”

Yuuri frowned, looking back down at his feet.

Ms. Grant hummed in thought of what to say next.

“Alright, let’s think of it this way. Imagine that you’re not hungry, and I have an unopened box of cereal. What would you do?”

Yuuri frowned, not quite following the analogy at first. But he answered, “I… wouldn’t need it.”

“You wouldn’t try to take the box from me, rip it open, waste the contents?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

Ms. Grant smiled. “And let’s say that you are hungry. Very hungry. You haven’t eaten all day, imagine, and I’m holding that same box of cereal. What would you do then?”

“Er… ask you for some?”

“But you’re hungry. Why not take the cereal by force?”

“Because that’s not polite?”

She nodded. “And why wouldn’t you, if I gave you the box, tear it up just to get the cereal inside?”

At that point, Yuuri was starting to catch on. “Because that’s not polite.”

“Exactly. So, what makes you think that your eating habits would change now that your diet has changed?”

“Oh,” Yuuri leaned back, thinking it over. She was right. Not once had he felt any loss of rationality. He still had his manners. “But the Patrollers say the transformation changes some people…”

Ms. Grant was already shaking her head before Yuuri finished the sentence. “The transformation only reveals a person’s true orientation towards power. If a person, who would hurt and kill was it not for societal conventions or fear of the law, was somehow freed of these restrictions, then they would hurt and kill freely. Do you, Yuuri, have any desire to hurt anyone?”

“No. No. I… I couldn’t.” His eyes landed, unbidden, on the scars running up Ms. Grant’s neck.

“See? You have nothing to worry about.” She smiled at him, and Yuuri had to turn his head up – to pretend he hadn’t been looking. Ms. Grant was too perceptive.

“I wasn’t the smartest fourteen-year-old.” She said, with a sober smile. “Nor did I have much self-esteem. I had braces and I was all legs, really. Not much of a waist or torso. So, when a man told me I was pretty, I went with him. The Patrollers found me two months later, half-dead. They said that it was a miracle that I survived that long.”

“I’m… sorry.”

Ms. Grant shook her head. “I found my family that way. My biological family was broken, toxic. The Patrollers here might seem unapproachable, but they care for each other in ways that were completely foreign to me. I wanted to give back. So I got an Associates in Psychology with the community college, and then went on to become a registered nurse through University. I’ve been with the Patrollers for seven years now.”

“Is it a paid job?”

“Yes, through the government. But honestly? I’d still be here even if I wasn’t paid.” She gave Yuuri a wise look. “Don’t go thinking that this is the end for you. It isn’t. I promise it gets better.”

Yuuri looked down, not quite believing her.

“And one day,” she nudged him, “You may even find this to be a blessing.”

That was especially hard to believe. Still, he let her lead him up and out of his room, her hand on his shoulder. They walked over to the lounge.

“Ah, you’re here! Took you long enough!” Phichit greeted them, all forgiveness and exuberant eyes.

Again, Yuuri had almost forgotten just how Phichit’s presence made everything better. Just being there with both Phichit and Ms. Grant did wonders for Yuuri’s nerves. Even though Red was there in his standard chair to guard Phichit and defend his own honor against Ms. Grant’s quick tongue, Yuuri decided that he would have a good time.

An hour into his time with Phichit, Red stopped glaring, and the conversation rolled on without worry. Phichit updated Yuuri on all the campus gossip that he missed – all of which Phichit had easily snooped up within twelve hours of being back at school. 

It helped. It helped so much.

Even though Yuuri fretted over Phichit leaving again – to which Red had offered an offended “hey fangs, you’re gonna kill yourself all over again, doubting my skill,” – just hearing Phichit say that he’d be back the next day made a world of a difference.

Yuuri was able to go into class the next morning with less trepidation.

Keeping in mind Ms. Grant’s strict requirement that Yuuri accept the donated blood, he dutifully nodded to learning the amount of blood he would need to stay functional. (At least a pint a week, or half a liter, based on how much protein and iron his body needed. Likely more since he was an athlete. This was according to, at least, what scientists hypothesized vampires needed from blood.) He told himself to keep likening blood to a protein shake. It helped.

He noted down the things that could harm a vampire: sunlight, holy water, and starvation. A vampire could get shot or hacked apart and still regenerate. The only thing a standard weapon did was slow the vampire down. To kill any vampire, it had to be fully exposed to direct sunlight for several minutes. A riser could technically be killed by starving it for a few months – in which case it would deteriorate into an actual corpse. The riser could be revived, at any time however, if exposed to human blood.

Though after going over these particular slides, Alexa asked if Yuuri wanted to know what a little bit of holy water or sun exposure felt like.

“It’s like how here in the States, cops are supposed to get tazed so that they know what it feels like.” She added when Yuuri balked at the unusual offer. It was something he would have expected Ciara to practice. “Just a pre-caution, so that you can know why you should avoid it. Neither leave a permanent mark.”

Maybe Yuuri was a little masochistic, but Alexa’s reasoning made sense. He opted for it.

For the holy water, Ciara pulled out a vial with a stag design exactly like the one Celestino had. She had Yuuri hold out his hand, and she let one drop fall on his skin. It felt like a splatter of oil from a frying pan, a sensation that Yuuri was already well familiar with, given his love of fried foods. Still, the sting lingered for a few minutes.

For the sunlight, the Williams had Yuuri stand off to the side while they pulled back an inch of the curtains covering the windows. Once a line of light fell into the room, they ushered him forward and had him hold out his hand once more. Just to see, he intended to hold his hand in the sunlight for a full minute, but he could barely handle thirty seconds. His entire hand was enflamed in red hot pain.

When Yuuri yanked his hand back, Alexa was a bit wide eyed. She nodded in respect.

“Wow, bro. You were able to stand that for quite a while.”

“Really?” While counting the seconds felt like forever, Yuuri figured he was pretty weak for only getting to twenty-seven.

“Most vamps I’ve seen can’t bare more than a few seconds.”

Yuuri shrugged. “Ice can burn like that.”

(That still didn’t mean that he was keen to repeat the experiences.)

“Right, right!” Alexa’s eyes lit up. “You’re a figure skater! You’ve made it international, right? That’s what your coach said. That reminds me!”

Alexa reached into her pant pocket, fished around, and then paused. “Babe, do you have the…”

Without any answer or explanation, Ciara pulled out both a compact mirror from an inside coat pocket, as well as her phone. She snapped a picture of Yuuri. He was about to ask why when she held the mirror in front of him.

It was the first time Yuuri had ever seen his reflection as a vampire. From the limited image that the compact mirror offered, he could tell that Phichit was right and he barely looked different. The only changes were that his skin was now devoid of acne – which was ungraciously gained from binging on American junk food, and not at all missed – and there were noticeable bags under his eyes.

Yuuri supposed he could trade one for the other. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what he looked like before a particularly crucial competition. Bags under his eyes, he could deal with.

He didn’t get a longer look before Ciara put the mirror down and instead showed him his picture on her cell.

 _That_ was a shock.

Yuuri coiled back upon the sight of a wide, red eyed corpse staring back at him.

“That’s me!?” He tried not to shriek.

“Well, depends on your stance on the whole ‘which side is the true side of a vampire’ debate, but yes. Cameras reveal this side of your appearance.” Alexa answered.

“It’s what you look like when you feed.” Ciara added, expression blank.

Oh. That made complete sense of Celestino’s aversion to watching Yuuri feed.

But what did this have to do with him being a figure skater…

_Oh._

“I can’t compete anymore!” Yuuri groaned and fell back into the nearest desk. Up until that point, Yuuri had been pointedly trying not to think about the effect his vampirism had on his career, but this put the final nail in the coffin.

His world, in that moment, fell beneath his feet.

He’d never get to try again at the Grand Prix. He’d never bring home gold. _He’d never stand next to Viktor Nikiforov._ Never as an _equal_.

Years of struggling and sacrifices were all for nothing.

It was over. It was all _over_.

The room fazed out as Yuuri gripped at his hair and tried to understand why breathing was doing nothing to help. He sucked in air desperately, tried to pay attention to some spot on the floor, but nothing grounded him.

His lungs were useless. His heart remained dead. Tears stung at his eyes.

It was over, it was over, _it was over, it was over, **it was**_ –

There was a hand on his back. Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, Alexa was standing right next to him. Ciara was right on the other side, her brows furrowed in a rare expression of emotion.

“Hey, hey, little man, I’m sorry,” Alexa was saying, a bit frantically. “I didn’t mean to freak you out like that! It’s alright. There’s a way around the camera thing. Hey? You alright?”

“Should we get Katie?” Ciara asked, her voice betraying nothing of the concern flashing in her eyes.

Upon mention of Ms. Grant, Yuuri started to heed a bit of what Alexa was saying.

“A way around it?” He gasped out.

“Yeah,” Alexa said. The hand started rubbing at his back, and Yuuri belatedly realized that it was Alexa who was comforting him. “Yeah, I wasn’t about to tell you that your career was over. It’s not.”

“It’s not?” He feebly repeated.

She held up a small glass bottle. It was about the size and design of a foundation bottle, something Yuuri was used to using for the spotlight of major events. The bottle contained a slightly silver cream. There was a glint about it.

“See this? It’s a get out of jail card. You put this on, and you won’t look like you’re feeding when on camera.”

Yuuri, while still trying to calm his attempts at breathing, focused on the bottle.

When Alexa shook it towards him, he took it in his hand. The tears slipped down his cheeks but that bottle finally grounded him.

“Want to try it out?” Alexa asked.

“Yes, please.”

Yuuri put the cream on as instructed. It was much like putting on foundation. Finally, when Ciara took a second picture, Yuuri was able to look at his picture without panicking. He looked just like he did in the mirror, save for the grayish tinge of his lower neck, where he didn’t apply the cream.

“See?” Alexa patted Yuuri on the arm. “You’re gonna be fine.”  

Yuuri, upon seeing the effects of the cream, was able to calm down. When he tried to give the bottle back, the Williams insisted that it was his to keep. He thanked them profusely, bowing repeatedly.

Knowing that there was a little more a chance he could get back into figure skating, Yuuri was able to sit through the rest of the lessons in relative ease. At the end of the class, he was given a cumulative test, which he passed.

And, just as promised, Phichit came by to visit him that evening.

Yuuri recounted much of what he learned – mostly at Phichit’s request. He even let Phichit take a picture of him, just to see the feeding face. Phichit thought it was both creepy and cool.

It wasn’t _as_ bad for Yuuri to see a picture of that side of him again, but he still had Phichit delete it.

Having passed the test, the Ms. Grant came by later to return Yuuri his phone and what belongings of his that weren’t damaged, or irrevocably blood stained, in the attack. It was amazing how much of a difference it was to be able to dress in his own clothes again, and appreciate the cute poodle design of his phone case.

Even better, Ms. Grant delivered the news that Yuuri was to return to campus that night.

Phichit cheered.

When the time came, the Williams and a couple other Patrollers gathered around to see Yuuri off. This time, Celestino was to drive both Phichit and Yuuri to their dorm. It was the first time that Yuuri met the chief of the Patrollers. Chief Abdul had hardened eyes, a jagged scar running down the side of his face, and his trenchcoat was fitted out like a vampire hunting armory.

It was rather intimidating, when Chief Abdul shook Yuuri’s hand in a bone breaking grip, but the chief only wanted to wish Yuuri the best and remind Yuuri that he wasn’t an animal.

Ciara reiterated that point when she also shook Yuuri’s hand goodbye. She leaned in, so that her eyes held Yuuri in place.

“I expect the best out of you, Mr. Katsuki.” She said in a low voice, only for him to hear. “Don’t you dare give up on yourself or your chance at a normal life. You _will_ continue your career. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuri gave a short bow.

He received hugs from both Alexa and Ms. Grant. Both women wished him well and told him that they believed in him.

Alexa, though, whispered in Yuuri’s ear, “I think you have a new fan, by the way. My wife went and watched a bunch of your programs on youtube. If she told you to not give up on your career, or something like that, then you’d better not.” She pulled back from the hug and flashed a playful grimace. “She really doesn’t take disappointment well.”

“Okay,” was all Yuuri could manage in response, wide-eyed. His cheeks felt a little warm, and he wondered if he was blushing. Could vampires blush?

Finally, Red stood by Celestino’s Toyota, and fixed Yuuri with a scrutinizing expression.

“You stay out of trouble, kid.” Red grunted. “Ya’ got all these ladies rooting for ya’, for some reason or another. It would be damned stupid of you to let them down.”

Yuuri nodded, a little bit winded from all the support and – did Red just call him ‘ _kid_ ,’ instead of ‘it’ or ‘fangs’???

He remembered what Ms. Grant said about the Patrollers. That they ‘might seem unapproachable,’ but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t care for each other like a family. He could see that now. They had all seen horrible, horrible things, but all found comfort in each other. The night was cold but they huddled close to each other, extending warmth and welcome. 

Yuuri’s chest twinged when he had to get into the car. He watched as Phichit received his own round of handshakes and hugs, and noticed a couple Patrollers wipe at their eyes. Phichit was an absolute beam of light in that bittersweet moment. No wonder they were all sad to see Phichit leave.

It took awhile before Phichit felt sufficient in his own farewells, but all too soon Celestino was pulling away from that old warehouse.

Yuuri waved goodbye out the review window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive critiques still welcome! (^_^)
> 
> [ Companion art](https://porkcutlethusbandos.tumblr.com/post/169623079127/from-my-yuri-on-ice-vampire-au-chapter-3) for this chapter, drawn by me, to give a better idea of what the 'feeding' face looks like
> 
> Also happy new years!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what’s fun? Writing dialogue between Japanese characters in a way that could be directly translated into Japanese. And all to satisfy my compulsive need to have accurate fanfic dialogue.   
> So, if the dialogue in this chapter sounds weird, it’s because my Japanese skills are conversational, at best.

Much like the Williams predicted, Japan did have its own regulations regarding its vampire population.

(From what Yuuri initially gathered, the vampire population in Japan was smaller than it was in America. Though, he didn’t know if that was reassuring or daunting.)

Yuuri was sent the materials he had to learn, and was left to juggle all the new information. Even still, the paperwork alone needed to get him back into his own country took a month to process.

During that time, Yuuri was left coming up with more pathetic excuses and lies for his family as to why he couldn’t come home as when originally planned. His mother told him over and over that it was alright, that he shouldn’t push himself. The easy acceptance of his mother just added further strain to Yuuri’s nerves.

He tried not to spend most of the days that month agonizing over the conflicted emotions playing out from his family. They missed him and wanted him back home – that much was clear from Hiroko’s eager chattering over the phone, and Toshiya offering all sorts of homemade food to return to – but they also knew it was because Yuuri was setting his beloved career on hold.

Feeding was also a hell of a nerve racking time. It was one thing that Phichit had no problem with Yuuri storing his blood bags for that month in their shared freezer. It was a somewhat tiring process to make sure the bag was defrosted and at least to room temperature before Yuuri felt comfortable drinking it, but Yuuri managed. But no matter how much Phichit insisted on wanting to watch, Yuuri outright banned his friend from the dorm room until he was done. Yuuri didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if even his best friend had to look away in fear.

At least he only had to down a half liter bag once a week. 

Things got a little bit easier when Phichit’s stitches were removed and he was able to return to the ice. It was wonderful to watch the color return to Phichit’s eyes as he greeted the ice like a long-lost friend. More so, there was no way that Phichit was going to let Yuuri return to his blanket burrito depressive state, so the two set out to the ice rink every evening.

Whatever heavy thoughts that swam around and infused his mind during the day just slipped away once Yuuri stepped back on the ice. He ran through old, comforting routines – most of which were relics of Viktor Nikiforov’s junior days – and Phichit dutifully kept his phone down whenever Yuuri slipped into something that followed suspiciously like ‘Stammi Vicino.’

It was in those moments that Yuuri realized that, undead or not, there was no way he could walk away from skating. But could he ever return to competitive figure skating?

With that vampire face cream, he had a chance. If he kept well fed, then he could stay in fit physical condition. The Williams believed he could. Phichit still kept pestering him about wanting a chance to compete against Yuuri that coming season. And his family, still blissfully unaware of the entire situation, talked as if Yuuri was going to keep winning bowls of katsudon once he got home.

He should have felt encouraged, but all the support made him feel more anxious.

(What if he got far too exposed to sunlight during a competition? What if he found himself in a crowd without masking spray or anything to cover his face? What if he got so caught up in practicing that he forgot to feed?)

Yuuri had no idea when his life had become so tangled up in horrible possibilities that the least horrible option was simply losing a competition. He did not want to think about the darker possibilities.

Still, every evening, when Yuuri didn’t have to worry about getting burned by the sun, he and Phichit grabbed their gear. They lost themselves to the unforgettable routine of their blades dancing on the ice, music flowing from their headphones.

Finally, finally, _finally_ , after days and hours and minutes of doing everything he could to distract himself from his growing uncertainty and panic, Yuuri received the greenlight to go back home.

* * *

 

There was a _keiya_ agent to receive Yuuri at the Fukuoka airport.

Yuuri was checking that his face mask – doused to diffuse scent, he had to wear it the entire plane ride –  was in place for the hundredth time when he saw the agent. The ‘night police’ agent wasn’t terribly hard to spot.

Agent Tanaka wore a suit, opaque sunglasses – they were still indoors – and held a black, closed umbrella by his side so casually that it could have been mistaken for a walking stick. He had a square, sharply defined, impassive face.

As first business, he ordered to inspect Yuuri’s luggage.

In custom, Agent Tanaka did not create any mess shifting through Yuuri’s suitcase, but he didn’t look entirely pleased with the job. His mouth thinned out when his hand landed on Yuuri’s see-through plastic toiletry bag, the vampire face cream visible.

“Where did you get this?” He demanded.

“The Patrollers gave it to me.”

Yuuri imagined Agent Tanaka’s eyes narrowing behind the glasses. “They _gave_ it to you?”

“Yes?” Yuuri answered, suddenly unsure.

Agent Tanaka flipped back over the clothes that were on top of the toiletry bag. He gave it all a quick glance to make sure Yuuri’s belongings were still packed neatly, and then unceremoniously shut the suitcase.

“The cost of that one bottle is 200 American dollars.” The agent spoke low. “And you’re saying that they gave it to you.”

Yuuri balked. Two hundred? Just for that one 60 ml* bottle?

The foundation he used was from a convenience store, bought at 1500 yen. And he only used it for the televised events. That one cheap foundation could be conserved to last… but the cream? Who knew if or when a fan would snap a picture of him? He’d have to wear it more often. What if when he ran out? That was just another expense to add onto the never-ending bill that was figure skating.

“Er, it’s for figure skating competitions.” Yuuri said, hoping that the explanation would suffice. Mentally, he was doing numerical flips, going back over his budget.

Agent Tanaka stared at him long and hard. Finally, he turned away with an irritated sigh.

“You have American fans, it seems.” He muttered, so inaudible that Yuuri wasn’t sure that he heard Tanaka correctly.

The _keiya_ agent popped open the umbrella over them both for the walk back to his car. Yuuri was ever grateful for that. So far, he had only had to go outside during daylight twice back in Detroit – to the post office – and it was a stressful process both times. He had received a number of judgmental stares for walking around in sunglasses, bandana over his nose and mouth, and hood pulled low over his face.

No one dared to question them when Agent Tanaka walked with such purpose. They got Yuuri’s suitcase in the trunk and pulled out to the highway with no incident.

However, Yuuri was not quite looking forward to an hour-long car ride with a man who probably thought that Yuuri was better off dead. He tried not to tap on his leg too noticeably.

Well, it wasn’t like the _keiya_ were going to imprison him. By registering with the Kyushu division, Yuuri was to receive a blood supply and other necessities – such as scent masking sprays. The vampire face cream was most definitely not included, and now Yuuri could understand why. Still, the _keiya_ , unlike their American counterparts, were not starved for resources. They weren’t shuffled off into old warehouses, with practices varying from state to state. No, the _keiya_ were a highly specialized task force, with laws and regulations a mile long.

By signing all those papers, Yuuri had agreed to very simple terms: he was to follow all their rules, or be eliminated on the spot.

So, he was not exactly relaxed sitting next to a man trained to kill him.

A small tiny part of him hoped and wondered that if all this nonsense had never happened, if someone else would have been there to receive him back home. Maybe Minako? She certainly wouldn’t let Yuuri walk home in peace without drawing attention to him and herself. Yet somehow that seemed a better idea than glancing at Agent Tanaka and wondering how much the man probably hated Yuuri just for existing.

“Um,” Yuuri broke the stale silence after about ten minutes. The radio wasn’t even on. “Is it okay for me to call my family? To tell them that I’m on my way?”

Agent Tanaka grunted an affirmative in response.

Yuuri thanked him and pulled out his phone. Though, he spent a moment staring at it before pulling up his mother’s contact.

By the Williams’ suggestion, Agent Tanaka was not there just to supervise Yuuri. He was there to help tell the Katsuki family about Yuuri’s transformation. By Japanese law, a vampire was allowed to tell their immediate, legal family about their identity. The Williams heavily implied that Yuuri should tell his family the second that he got home.

“Trust me,” Alexa had directed, closer to the end of their second class, “You do not want to hide something like this from your family. It only leads to disaster when they do inevitably find out. I can promise you that.”

Yuuri worried at his lip as his finger hovered over the call button. He planned on calling them to let them know that he was on his way, but he wondered if he should tell them that he was being escorted home.

Feeling Tanaka side-eyeing him, Yuuri jabbed at the call button and put the phone to his ear.

“ _Moshi, moshi_ , Yuuri!” His mom answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Mom,” Yuuri replied. “I’m off the plane, on the way home now.”

It felt good to say ‘home.’ He could feel his mother’s bubbling excitement from the other end. In the background, he could hear some customers conversing, and what was probably the television in the lounge.

“That’s good! We’re looking forward to it!” His mom gushed. “You’re on the train now?”

Yuuri shifted in his seat at that.

“Actually… I’m getting a car ride…”

“Is that so?” his mom said after a moment’s pause. “That’s fine, you know.”

Yuuri sucked in a breath, debated with himself, yet settled on, “That is so.”

“Then, we’ll see you.” She said, still uncertain.

“Yes, see you then.” Yuuri kept his voice from wavering. He let his mother hang up.

The car returned to its uncomfortable silence. It seemed that Agent Tanaka had nothing to say on the phone conversation. He merged into another lane. Yuuri tapped a couple times on his leg.

The silence was so unusual. After the almost deafening sounds on the plane – children squabbling, snores, loud music filtering from headphones, and _all the heartbeats_ – the car was almost maddening.

Wait. Heartbeats. Yuuri couldn’t hear any heartbeat. His attention whipped towards Agent Tanaka, who drove wearing gloves and his sunglasses still.

“You’re a vampire!” Yuuri realized.

Agent Tanaka glanced over at him.

“That took awhile.”

The realization sprung up a million questions in Yuuri’s mind. He tried to sort them in order of priority. But Tanaka was two steps ahead.

“Yes, we have vampires in the _keiya_.” He said. “My family has worked for the _keiya_ for three generations, going back to when my grandfather joined the predecessor organization in 1844.”

Yuuri’s mouth popped open in surprise, and he found himself sitting up straight. He was in the presence of not only another vampire, but a true born. The very type of vampire that Ciara had told him to watch himself around. And from the sounds of it, Tanaka was from an old family.

Bits of information that Yuuri remembered learning about Japan came filtering back to him. Vampires weren’t native to Japan, but arrived with the flow of European trade. Though, there was some speculation that Chinese vampires had already come to Japan before the Dutch showed up in the 1600s. Either way, influential vampire families had formed and they found the arrogant rampage of European vampires unacceptable; from then on, Japanese humans and true borns alike kept the riser population under control.

(In Japan, risers were still called _gaioni_ – ‘foreign demon;’ a testament to just how unwanted they were.)

If Agent Tanaka was a descendant of one of those original families, then he was used to receiving absolute respect.

By the time the car drove onto the main street of Hasetsu, Yuuri was as stiff as a board. He didn’t to do anything so much as twitch, having no clue what offended a true born. That and the closer they got to Yu-topia, the more anxious he became over his inevitable confession to his family. Maybe it was better that Tanaka would help explain what happened. Yuuri was too terrified that he would do or say something wrong and end up traumatizing his family. 

The last thing Yuuri wanted was to be a threat to his own loved ones. 

Agent Tanaka parked the car in front of Yu-topia. Once the ignition was off, he turned to look at Yuuri with a frown. His nose twitched.

“I can smell your stress. It’s unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri squeaked out.

Agent Tanaka sighed, pulled the umbrella up from the back seat, and got out the car. He got Yuuri’s suitcase out of the trunk before letting Yuuri out of the car and under the umbrella.

“Let me explain everything to your family.” Tanaka said. The way he said it, it wasn’t a request. He looked up at the onsen. “They will listen to me.”

“Okay.” Yuuri said, unnecessarily. He checked his mask again. It was still in place.

Agent Tanaka walked Yuuri inside, where Yuuri called out that he was home.

Hiroko came rushing in, all smiles, but paused the second she saw the sharply dressed agent shadowing Yuuri. Her eyes shifted between the two of them, filled with questions.

Nevertheless, she was a practiced hostess.

“Ah, hello, welcome!” Hiroko found herself and approached Tanaka as if he was a respected stranger or customer. “Did you drive Yuuri here from the airport?”

“I did.” Agent Tanaka answered.

“Well then, thank you very much.” She bowed. But Agent Tanaka did not return any such gesture. He stepped forward, right before the lip of the entryway. First he took off his shoes, and then tucked his sunglasses in his front suit pocket. From his pants pocket he pulled what Yuuri recognized as the masking spray, and from inside his suit jacket he pulled an ID.

Yuuri didn’t see what was on the ID, but he watched his mother’s eyes widen and smile vanish when Tanaka flashed it in her face.

“May I spray this? Protocol.” He held up the spray.

“A-ah, yes. You may.” Hiroko backed up, and threw another imploring look at Yuuri. All he could do was look off to the side and shift his foot back and forth.

They both just waited while Tanaka misted neutralizer over the foyer. Figuring that it was fine now, Yuuri pulled down his mask. Still, and he had to remember this, the spray only hid the smell of blood. It didn’t cover up everything. The barrage of scents was disorienting and welcoming all at the same time.

Some of it he was already familiar with – that smell of home that he had been unconscious to his entire life, but now noticed with searing accuracy. Just like the warehouse, there was a mingling of a different people, but unlike the warehouse, the underlying scents weren’t rustic, but clean.

His father was likely cooking, because the scent of fatty, heated oil and salted, warm rice wafted from the kitchen window. But those scents didn’t hold the same significance for Yuuri anymore, and he momentarily mourned for the loss of excitement towards his favorite foods. He could still eat them. He just wouldn’t ever need or crave them.

The tradeoff was that standing in front of his mother, he was enveloped in the scent of childhood and safety. Hiroko had a sturdy scent, something like a mixture of wood and hard work. She liked to wear herbal based cosmetics, and it mixed with her natural scent to create something earthy and comfortable.

The familiarity of home brought Yuuri forward. He took off his shoes and coat, and set aside both his shoes and Tanaka’s shoes.

“Um, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something… I have to tell you. Er, well, Tanaka- _sama_ will tell you.”

His mother picked up on his choice of honorific right away. Since she didn’t know about true borns or risers, there was little other way for him to express to his mother that the agent was to be carefully respected.

Agent Tanaka completed his task, and he strolled back to where Yuuri and Hiroko stood, his chin upturned.

“May we speak somewhere more private? With your entire family?” He said. “It’s a sensitive topic.”

“Of course, not a problem!” Hiroko answered in formal speech. She sped off, likely to fetch Mari so that she could get a room set up, while Hiroko made sure all the guests were situated.

Knowing which room they were using, Yuuri escorted Agent Tanaka there when he was given the okay. It was a four-tatami mat room, something that guests could reserve for meals or tea. Once in a while, a business man passing through would rent out the room for a night – the only inn service that Yu-topia really offered.

There was already a table and cushions, as well as a bowl of snacks. Either Mari or Hiroko was preparing tea. Agent Tanaka sat down, while Yuuri hovered by the door.

“You won’t make your guest offer you a seat in your own house, will you?” Tanaka asked Yuuri with a small smirk.

“Ah, I will not, I’m sorry.” Yuuri scrambled to sit down on the cushion next to Tanaka. They sat on the other side from the door. Normally, by custom, Yuuri would have taken a seat by the door,** but he didn’t feel confident enough yet in himself to sit so close to his still human family. Across from them were the three cushions where the other Katsuki would sit. Fortunately, Agent Tanaka didn’t make any comment about Yuuri’s choice in seat. Yuuri hoped that Tanaka had understood.

It wasn’t long before Mari showed up with the tea. She had clearly just been interrupted from a smoke break, because the smell of cigarette smoke drifted into the room when she went to sit down. She was also an edge – how she usually was when she hadn’t the chance to take a proper break; she kept glancing over at Agent Tanaka, trying not to overtly study him.

Agent Tanaka accepted a cup, took a tiny, barely existent sip, and then set the cup back down. Yuuri had a feeling that the tea would be forgotten. Mari sat down, still unsure, and served everyone else’s tea.

Yuuri caught scent of his mother and father before they entered the room. Toshiya carried the aroma of the kitchen and _sake_ with him, but his natural scent was also rather sharp. In the small space, Yuuri found himself a tiny bit overwhelmed with all the new smells and the sound of three heartbeats. Each pulse of his family members thudded with so much more importance to Yuuri than any one person on the plane ride.

But Tanaka made no indication that he was affected at all, so Yuuri planted his hands down on his knees and focused on the tea. It usually relaxed him. When his family took their own sips at the tea – glancing at each other and Yuuri – he also tried it. The taste didn’t woo him, but the warmth of it was nice.

“I am here to inform you of something that happened to Yuuri while he was in America.” Agent Tanaka announced, cutting right to business. “Be reassured that he is in… good health now… but the consequences of the incident will affect your daily lives.”

The Katsuki family was lost for words.

Tanaka continued. “Before I start, you need to know that there are things that exist in this world that you would otherwise like to tell yourself don’t exist. These things are real, and while my colleagues and I will do what we can to keep you safe, we will need your full cooperation.”

“Yuuri…” Mari said in a low, cautious tone. “What is this guy talking about? What happened?”

“Does this involve something illegal?” Hiroko asked, completely incredulous to the idea of Yuuri getting involved in crime.

“First, I will demonstrate something.” Tanaka interrupted. He closed his eyes, and something in the air around him shifted. Yuuri suddenly felt alert. His family shrunk back without thinking. Tanaka opened his eyes. Both irises were now the unmistakable blood red of a vampire’s true form. Yet his skin kept its color. Nothing else about his features changed.

Hiroko let out a little shriek, and Toshiya grabbed her arm. Mari’s eyes widened and her entire body tensed. Her mouth slacked open, but no sound came out.

_How was he doing that_? Yuuri thought. He learned that vampires only took on that form when feeding or caught on film. Was this a true born ability? To change their appearance at will?

When Tanaka opened his mouth to speak, his fangs were elongated. “I am what you would call a vampire. In truth, we are real; we have existed for thousands of years.”

The Katsuki family could only stare. Yuuri shifted again. Tanaka shut his eyes again, and to everyone’s relief, he had returned to his non-vampiric state when he opened his eyes again.

“It is unfortunate, but about a month ago, when your son was in America, he and his rinkmate were attacked by two rogue vampires. His rinkmate has made a full recovery and returned to school. However, one of Yuuri’s attackers forced him to drink their blood. Yuuri is a vampire. There is nothing we can do to change him back.”

“No way!” Mari snapped, all formality aside. Beside her, Hiroko gaped at her daughter's rudeness. “There is no way that Yuuri is a vampire.”

Agent Tanaka’s eyes narrowed, flashing in a dangerous glint. He pulled out a little tin, the kind that would hold mints. But when he opened it, the smell of blood hit Yuuri like a slap to the face. Tanaka pulled from the tin a little packet of blood. Even though Yuuri had to feed before going on the plane, the blood didn’t smell any less tempting. His throat itched for just a sip.

“I didn’t want to do this, but…” Agent Tanaka displayed no such reluctance. He tore open a corner of the packet, and then thrust it under Yuuri’s nose. The scent filled Yuuri’s nose before he could even recoil. His family gasped.

Yuuri looked up to see that his family’s faces had all gone deathly pale.

“Drink it.” Agent Tanaka ordered.

“N-no.” Yuuri stammered, trying not to look his parents in the eyes. “I will not.”

“Don’t you want it? It’s in your nature.” The agent taunted.

“I do not want it!” Yuuri screwed his eyes shut.

The packet moved away from Yuuri’s face, but it wasn’t until Tanaka replaced it to the tin – thus shutting away the scent – did Yuuri take a breath of relief. It went emptily through his airways. In front of him, his family’s faces were still pale.

“This is your son now.” Agent Tanaka said, a malicious glee tilting his words. “If you don’t want to be his next meal, then we will need to believe me.”

The contrast of Yuuri’s invulnerability and his family’s newfound fear of him shook him. He was not going to let anything happen to his family. Least of all, himself. Something burned in him.  

When Tanaka asked a cocky, drawled, “Do you believe me now?” Yuuri turned on him.

“Tanaka- _san_! That was entirely unnecessary!” Yuuri heightened himself up. “Do not ever use such demonstrations again!”

Agent Tanaka eyed him with an upturned brow.

“Do you want your family dead, then?” His voice was even, but his eyes were deadly.

Yuuri heard a whimper from his family’s side of the table. It made him see red and filled him with a confidence that he didn’t know he had.

Yuuri never wanted to see that look of absolute terror on a loved ones’ face ever again. He stood up over Tanaka and pointed to the door.

“If you will not respect my family, then I will regrettably have to ask you to leave.”

“Would you really?”

The air around Yuuri stilled. “Yes. You need to leave. Now.”

Agent Tanaka’s expression never shifted, but he stood up and relented. He bowed to Hiroko and Toshiya, emotionlessly thanked them for the tea, and then left the room at an impasse. Yuuri followed him to make sure that he exited the building entirely. The other members of the Katsuki family followed Yuuri – who was boring holes into Tanaka’s back with his stare alone – as Agent Tanaka made his way out of Yu-topia.

Only after Agent Tanaka had drove off in his car did Yuuri turn back to face his family.

There was no one else in the entranceway. His family watched him cautiously.

Yuuri fell to his knees, kowtowing before his parents and sister.

“I am so sorry!” He cried. “This is all my fault. I brought this difficulty on the family. I hope to never cause such trouble again, and if you can’t have me around anymore, then I understand.”

There was a startled quiet from his family, and then Hiroko was urging Yuuri back up and into her arms.

“My son,” Hiroko sighed. Yuuri was draped over her small frame, but she held him as if she meant to protect _him_ from the world, not herself. “We don’t blame you. I am so proud of you.”

Yuuri felt tears prick in his eyes, and his chin wobbled. “How?”

“You came back home to us.”

“Yes, but now, because of me, your lives will be troubled.”

“Pff,” Mari huffed. “Sure, if you call throwing out that pompous asshat as troubling us.”

“Mari, mind your language,” Toshiya reprimanded half-heartedly. There was color returning to his cheeks, and he now managed a supportive smile towards Yuuri.

Hiroko pulled back from the hug and patted Yuuri’s cheek. “Yes, this is new for us, but this is you, Yuuri. We’ll work with this best we can.”

Mari nodded and stepped forward so that she could pat Yuuri on the shoulder. He then noticed a wicked gleam in her eyes, and it worried him a little. “Besides,” she drawled, “I’ll feel a lot safer around some of the more… curious guests… with you around.”

“Mari!” Toshiya admonished again, but he still didn’t frown.

“Really?” Yuuri was more than overwhelmed with the immediate support and acceptance from his family. If keeping the occasional guests’ hands off Mari or her things was he needed to do to win her approval, then he figured he could do that.

“Truly.” Hiroko answered. “If you tell us what you need, we’ll be there for you.”

* * *

Not even a day following the Agent Tanaka incident, another agent from the _keiya_ arrived. That time it was a scruffy, middle-aged man who smelled of smoke and beer, but he laughed easily and was incredibly polite with Hiroko.

Officially, Agent Nakamura was there to deliver Yuuri’s first ration of blood, along with a mini fridge-freezer combo to store the blood bags.

While Hiroko and Toshiya were dazzled by the second agent’s wit, Mari helped Yuuri carry the heat box to his room. The two decided together that it would be best hidden away in the closet. Yuuri was absolutely inept with most hardware – the furthest his expertise went was helping his dad clean the oven – so Mari did most of the work hooking it up and getting it at the right temperature.

Yuuri had thanked her profusely for her help, but she only waved it off saying that she had a return favor in mind.

The two returned to the lounge, where Agent Nakamura was discreetly giving Yuuri’s parents some information packets on vampires. This agent was very good at keeping the guests around him relaxed, while also keeping them distracted from the information that Toshiya was now reading over. No one suspected anything of the government official’s visit.

When Nakamura spotted Yuuri, however, he stood up and shuffled Yuuri out of the room.

“Uh–” Yuuri started, but the agent interrupted him with a grave expression.

“I need to warn you.” Nakamura leveled with Yuuri, the smell of alcohol on his breath filling the hallway in which they stood. “Even though I’m not fond of the guy, what you did to Agent Tanaka was very dangerous. He did not take your offense lightly.”

Yuuri gulped.

“Be careful. Keep your head down. Because Agent Tanaka will look for any reason to indict you.  Understood?”

“Understood.” Yuuri recited. A cold chill ran down his back.

Agent Nakamura nodded, somewhat assured that Yuuri wouldn’t do anything too stupid. When he returned to the lounge, though, he waved off Hiroko and Toshiya’s concerns by saying that he was giving Yuuri some friendly advice. It took a bit more effort on Yuuri’s part, though, to rein back the cold fear from showing on his face.

Nakamura didn’t have to press his point too far. What Yuuri and he both knew was that if Agent Tanaka pushed through a successful indictment, then there wouldn’t be any second chances.

Yuuri was able to school his expression successfully enough that he didn’t bring his family any worry. They didn’t need to know the hole Yuuri had just dug himself. He didn’t want them feeling guilty for something they had no control over.

Thankfully, they were all focused on the info packets that Agent Nakamura had provided.

The Katsuki family were true to their word.

Even after learning more details about vampires and the _keiya_ , Yuuri’s family continued to support him in every way he needed and in every way he didn’t think he deserved.

His parents were especially saddened, of all things, by the idea of Yuuri never enjoying katsudon again. That led to Toshiya experimenting for an hour or so until he invented a ‘vampire version’ of katsudon. He flash-fried the pork so that it was still mostly raw, used extra egg, was sparing with the mirin and sugar, excluded anything green, and used some meat broth to cook with the rice.

To the rest of the Katsuki family, the vampire katsudon was unsettling just to look at. Yuuri, on the other hand, was already sniffling back happy tears before it was placed in front of him. Granted, the dish didn’t taste the way Yuuri remembered. It wasn’t nearly as good as blood. But it was so, so, so much better than toast and butter.

Later that night, Yuuri discovered exactly the favor Mari had in mind for setting up his fridge. She had him go through her entire collection of vampire genre manga – a collection that stretched back to her metal phase in high school – and point out what was accurate and inaccurate.

Yuuri had no idea just how big of a weakness his sister had for a pretty face and tragic backstory. Just when he thought he was getting close to the end of her collection, she pulled out another series.  

It had taken two hours to skim through the entire collection. The resulting discussion lasted another hour. But it had been years since Yuuri had any quality time with Mari, and so he had reveled in every minute.

* * *

A mere sixty nine hours following Yuuri’s arrival in Japan, Minako burst upon Yu-topia, demanding to know why she hadn’t been informed about Yuuri’s return.

Thankfully, Yuuri was not left to pacify an agitated Minako on his own. His family knew about the secrecy law just as well as they knew Yuuri’s ballet teacher, so they already had a story prepared. First, Hiroko brought out some top shelf _sake_ as an apology, and then she and Yuuri explained the situation.

The ‘official’ story was that Hiroko had been planning on a reverse surprise party to welcome Yuuri home – reverse, as Yuuri wouldn’t be the one surprised, but friends invited over the day he came home – but he had come down with some 24 hour stomach bug from the plane.

Minako, even as the _sake_ eased her, was still suspicious of the excuse. Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny the bags under Yuuri’s eyes, or how he kept more of a distance from people for ‘not wanting to spread the virus.’

“This better not keep you from the studio!” Minako had pointed at Yuuri. “I’m glad you didn’t let that American food get to you, but you need to stay in top shape!”

“Well, I’ll be helping around the onsen, so I might only be able to come in the evening…”

“Fine, fine… does Toshiya have any more of those red bean cakes?”

* * *

To keep up the excuse and appearances, Hiroko did put Yuuri to work around the onsen. Most of the day, Yuuri fetched things from the store room, helped with laundry, or cleaned the bathrooms. It was work that kept him away from guests, and he was perfectly fine with that. Occasionally a guest would recognize him as the ‘ace’ Hasetsu skater. They would ask for an autograph or handshake, but Yuuri could handle that.

(Well, as much as his painful shyness allowed.)

In the evenings that Minako didn’t have ballet classes or private lessons, Yuuri was welcomed over to the studio. While he did gain a couple kilograms from binge eating in America, Yuuri had already worked off most of it while skating with Phichit. Minako didn’t have much to critique on, besides the fact that he was a little out of practice with some forms.

She still put him through his paces, so that by the time he jogged back home, he was ready to collapse into bed.

The best part about staying active was that Yuuri had less energy to worry about how he was going to continue competitively skating – he had resolved that he _would_ , the only issue was _by what means_ – or overthink his new lifestyle as a vampire. At least, thankfully, he didn’t have to kick anyone out of his room to feed. Toshiya kept finding ways of making dishes appetizing for Yuuri. It was also easy to avoid daylight; his family had already made sure every window had a curtain.

His life felt almost normal.

After a few weeks of ‘normal,’ though, Yuuri had gotten bored. He started to ache for the ice again. Finally, on an evening that Minako had classes and Yuuri would have spent the night flopping about his room, he traded out his ballet gear for skates. In a last-minute decision, he applied some vampire face cream. He figured that it would be a good habit to get into. Plus, on the good chance that the Nishigori triplets were roaming around the rink, he didn’t want to be caught in one of their surprise selfie sprees, or something like that. He still remembered vividly how, two years ago, he had gotten a series of text messages from Yuuko. All seventeen messages turned out to be a series of photos the sneaky then four-year-old triplets had snapped of their mother while she was asleep.

On that thought, even though the cream was water and sweat proof, Yuuri tucked the bottle into his bag. Once the sun was down, he jogged over to ice castle.

Yuuko let Yuuri into the rink without complaint. Even though it meant that she had to stay on shift for a couple extra hours, she was more than happy to sit rink side while Yuuri twirled around the ice for a bit. Finally, he worked up the nerve to show her what he had been secretly practicing.

What he hadn’t accounted for was the triplets filming his skating of Viktor Nikiforov’s entire routine.

* * *

 

The Kastuki family had done a wonderful job accommodating Yuuri. He had just started getting used to his new type of life in Hasetsu…

And then Viktor Nikiforov arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much appreciate the feedback and constructive criticism! (^_^)/~*
> 
> *60 ml = about 2 ounces   
> **Ever wonder why the anime protagonist always sits by the classroom window? Well, in Japanese custom, the most important person in the room, or honored guest, is to be given the seat furthest from the door. It's so that if the room is attacked, this person will be guarded by all the people between them and the door. The more you know~
> 
> Words I totally made up using my limited knowledge of Japanese:   
> keiya (けいや　警夜）night police  
> gaioni (がいおに　外鬼）foreign demon
> 
> Also, if I have any Japanese readers – and ONLY if you are Japanese – I would absolutely love feedback on this story’s Japanese vampire history/society. I am not Japanese, and I do not want to stomp all over a culture that isn’t mine.


	5. Chapter 5

Adjusting to and learning the scents and heartbeats of his family and friends was a process for Yuuri. During that month of waiting in Detroit, Yuuri rarely interacted with anyone other than Phichit or Celestino. His dorm room was an easy escape, as he was already familiar with the smell of hamsters – that, and Phichit’s subtle scent and steady, athletic heartrate was always a comfort.

Yu-Topia was different, but, Yuuri made himself content with even this environment.

After some time home, Yuuri had adjusted to how his dad made every room he stood in smell like the kitchen, or how Yuuri could almost time how recently Mari had come back from a smoke break. Whenever his thoughts started turning pessimistic, he learned that being near his mother – with her earthy scent and energetic, dancing heartbeat – reassured and calmed him. Yuuri even began to familiarize himself with Minako’s airy, citrus and alcohol-tinged scent, as well as the mingle of scents that Yuuko always wore from her family.

When it came to the few guests that Yuuri interacted with, there were some with strong scents, and some who had a quieter profile. Some people wore so many cosmetics and perfumes that it made Yuuri’s nose itch. Others just, no matter how well they bathed, wore body odor like a cloak. And when it came to the guest who drank and smoked, Yuuri had grown up with Mari and Minako, so he wasn’t fazed. Fortunately, people with exceedingly strong scents weren’t too common, and Yuuri adjusted to even that.

Eventually, just knowing that someone was in the room without having to look up became a nice trait to have. It was hard to worry about people fearing him when their heartrates betrayed no emotions of the sort. Even still, he could ignore the scents of his family and friends if needed.

But then there was Viktor’s scent.

Viktor had a powerful, expansive scent. The smell of Viktor Nikiforov was wide, flowery, and completely impossible to ignore. When Yuuri so much as passed any room that held Viktor, it was like walking through one of those candle aisles at a department store. No matter how many times Yuuri had to pass through that aisle, he could never brush off that twirling, intrusive scent.

At first Yuuri thought it had to be cologne. Hair care products, make up, body wash… anything. There was no way one person could take over the room by just their natural scent alone. (A time or two, Yuuri had lied in bed awake and wondering if humans were also aware of Viktor’s scent, and if it was part of the reason why people were so drawn to him.)

But as much as Viktor had a morning routine, each product had a specific smell that was easy to pick apart from everything else.

No matter what, though, the absolutely most frustrating part was that it _wasn’t a bad scent_. Just the opposite. Yuuri _loved_ it – and he despised himself for reverting to an obsessive twelve-year old fan anytime he simply traced Viktor’s path to the lounge. (Sometimes he even just paused outside Viktor’s room in the spare banquet hall, breathing in that lovely, lovely scent.)

The worst part was that being near Viktor was dangerous. Not just because, of all people, Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov wanted nothing more than to scoot up close to Yuuri and interrogate him about his interests, while brushing his hand along Yuuri’s face. Although, even that bewildered Yuuri.

No, it was dangerous because Yuuri had no clue how to pretend he was still human around Viktor. Pretending to still be human around the Nishigori family and Minako was simple enough – even if he felt like he was betraying their trustworthiness by doing so – because Yuuri already felt comfortable being himself around them. All Yuuri had to do was pretend things were just as they always had been, and he was fine.

Things weren’t ‘just as they always had been’ around Viktor. There was no routine to follow. Yuuri and Viktor had been worlds apart for years, separated by a television screen and a pedestal far too high to reach. Viktor was a star, unattainable in every sense of the word. Yuuri was a dime a dozen embarrassment.

But then Viktor had blown everything out of the water by declaring – naked in the hot springs no less – that he wanted to be Yuuri’s coach.

And all Yuuri could manage was to self-destruct on Viktor’s touch, while at the same time resisting every last urge to follow the living legend around like a lost puppy.

Viktor, in return, seemed to love causing Yuuri whiplash. One minute he was smiling sardonically, taunting Yuuri for his lack of ambition, and then the next he was snooping around about Yuuri or his lack of a love life, and getting _way too close_.

To put it simply, Yuuri was losing his mind.

Left with no other options, Yuuri followed his new exercise regime, and did his best to place Makkachin between himself and Viktor whenever the two were alone.

His family helped with as much as they could.

The first time that Yuuri had to go to his room to feed, Hiroko did a great job distracting Viktor and keeping him out in the lounge. (Granted, she had used Yuuri’s _baby pictures_ to distract Viktor, and it only left Yuuri flaming red in the face over how well it had worked.)

Mari had come up with a rather convincing reason as to why it was ‘onsen custom’ to use a colorless, odorless spray in every room. Viktor accepted it and took on spraying his own room every other day.

The family backed Yuuri up when he offered weakly that he had a sun allergy, and that his schedule at the onsen and with Minako meant that he could only go to the rink in late afternoon (when the sun was on the other side of Ice Castle, and not filling the rink with light through the massive windows.)

Still, Viktor liked to turn every outing with Makkachin into an exercise opportunity, so Yuuri had to perfect the art of throwing on his hoodie, face mask, and gloves anytime Viktor announced that Makkachin wanted a walk. Going on jogs never ceased to be a nerve wracking activity, but Yuuri learned that as long as he kept his face pointed towards the ground, then the sun wouldn’t sting his skin.

Once Yuuri figured out how to best keep himself protected from the sun, he braved a tour of the town for Viktor. Thankfully, Viktor had chosen a cloudy day to run about the famous landmarks. Yuuri still dressed up, just in case. Viktor, accepting Yuuri’s pitiful sun allergy excuse, made no comment.

It was actually a nice morning out with Viktor – who, for all the pictures he took, never insisted on dragging Yuuri in any selfies. That was a blessing, since Yuuri had forgotten the vampire face cream.

It was also easier to talk to Viktor then, since all Yuuri had to do to appease his new coach was answer questions about this cultural fact, or about that building, or ‘how do you say ocean in Japanese?’ After a while, Yuuri got just as excited about showing off his hometown as Viktor seemed to explore every single street they passed. With the clouds still rolling steady across the sky, Yuuri didn’t have to worry about being a vampire. All he had to worry about was being a good host, and he could do that. He could point out the best places to take a picture, or introduce Viktor to the best ramen place in town.

Viktor still flirted, that much didn’t change.

Yet by the time the two came back to the onsen, well into the evening, Yuuri was surprised that he felt a little less nervous with how close Viktor insisted on walking next to him. Not entirely relaxed, but getting there.

Finally, Yuuri started to adjust to even this change.

...And then Russian tiger Yuri Plisetsky had to kick down the doors of Ice Castle.

Literally.

Incredibly, Yuri Plisetsky had stormed past the Nishigori triplets and invaded Ice Castle for all of three minutes when he shoved Yuuri into a custodian closet and had a switchblade to Yuuri’s neck.

“What the hell happened to you, loser?!” Yuri demanded. “You better give me reason to believe it’s still you under those fangs or I’m giving you a close shave!”

There was a long minute during which Yuuri could only gape and struggle to catch his mind up to whatever the hell had just happened. How did Yuri get a switchblade into the country? Did he really figure out that quick that Yuuri was a vampire now? Was Yuri Plisetsky actually threatening him… again???

Yuuri ended up offering a very intelligent response: “That’s a knife.”

Yuri balked back. He looked Yuuri’s bewildered and panicked body language up and down, and then he lowered the knife slightly.

“Yeah. It’s still you. Unfortunately.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “Alright, before you think you get off easy, you better answer my question. What happened to you?”

“Er… America. I was attacked… in America. After the Grand Prix.”

Yuri lowered the knife all the way and replaced the blade. He tucked it into his pants.

“Um… how did you know that I…?” Yuuri asked.

“None of your damned business. Now, where the hell is Viktor?”

“… In the rink?”

Yuri scoffed and then stormed out of the closet, leaving Yuuri standing awkwardly among the brooms and cleaning supplies.

* * *

 

“Viktor! _Viktor_! Get your things right now! I’m taking you back to Russia!”

The yelling had already attracted Yuuko and the triplets to the rink. Yuuri followed the sound meekly to find Yuri half over the wall, and Viktor only glancing at the raging teen in fond amusement.

“Ah, Yuri, what a surprise!” Viktor greeted. He skated over towards the wall, but stayed out of reach from Yuri.

“Don’t fucking give me that bullshit!” Yuri banged on the wall, letting out a string of what must have been Russian expletives. His curses must have been colorful and creative, because Viktor blinked in surprise. Behind him, Yuuko was trying to get the triplets to put their phone away. “You’re coming back to Russia with me!”

“Such urgency! Hm… did I forget something again?” Viktor asked with a guiltless smile.

Yuri grounded out something like an affirmative.

Yuuri stood shell shocked. Did Yuri find out that Yuuri had become a vampire and was now here to take Viktor away? No. Yuri was clearly shocked to see that Yuuri had been turned. But still, he was here to take Viktor away.

“You promised to choreograph a program for me!” Yuri continued to yell. “What the hell were you doing practicing your own new programs when you abandoned skating?”

To that, Viktor only laughed. He skated off the rink and put on his skate guards and jacket.

“Ah, yes, yes, now I remember.” Viktor said with a tap to his chin.

“Great, now get your ass moving. We’re going back to Russia. Now.”

Yuuri tried not to react too strongly. If he said anything, like ‘no, he’s here for me,’ would that make him look possessive and animalistic? But could he let Yuri take Viktor back to Russia?

Viktor, still tapping at his own chin, glanced over at Yuuri. Their eyes met and Yuuri had no idea how to convey his heart. Should he even protest? The moment dragged on, Yuuri just waiting for Viktor to go ‘ah, right, what am I doing here with this loser, I should helping the Junior champion.’  

Instead, Viktor, always full of surprises, proposed a competition.

* * *

Both Yuris protested. They truly put in their best efforts. But Viktor could not be swayed from his own idea. Worst of all, he had the full backing of the Nishigori triplets.

Yuri Plisetsky was left to demand a room at the onsen. His official reason was that he wanted an equal amount of Viktor’s time as Yuuri. But when Yuri came across Yuuri in the hallway, alone, he pushed Yuuri to the side.

Even though Yuri didn’t have the switchblade on him that time, he still made his intentions very clear.

“I’m watching you.” He had growled. “You give me any reason… any reason whatsoever to think that you’re no longer a harmless tear-baby, then you’re gonna have to figure out how to live without a head for a few centuries.”

Yuuri was left not knowing if he should be scared or exasperated. First Red, now a yelling teenager? (By the way, Yuuri thought grumpily, it’s called a _crybaby_.) What did he have to do to prove to people that he had no intention of causing bloody massacres?

All he could do was resign alongside the other Yuri and play along with Viktor’s little game. Even when Viktor announced the themes that they would be skating to, and Yuuri suddenly found himself with a new worry over ‘ _how the hell was he supposed to skate to Eros???_ ’

Yuri seemed to think that Yuuri was some sort of monster, while Viktor seemed to think that Yuuri had an inner seductress. Yuuri just could not catch a break.

Of course, it wasn’t like Yuuri didn’t know where to draw inspirations of Eros from. If he was truly being honest with himself, his sensuality might have been drawn to the man who stared down at him from all the posters in his room, the man who insisted on stretching _right in front_ of Yuuri while in the hot springs.

But if he even hinted at such desires, then, well… one, there was no way Yuuri was going to admit his attraction to Viktor fucking Nikiforov. If he did that, then it would probably just give Viktor another reason to pack and leave. Furthermore, on a second point, it felt far too crude for Yuuri to take on the true role of a seductress. Being a vampire was bad enough. He had no clue how or desire to be a succubus.

So, one night at dinner, tired out of his mind and sanity, Yuuri announced that his Eros was katsudon.

“What the fuck.” Yuri had muttered, lopped over on the table next to Yuuri.

It took Viktor a moment to process the new information, but he accepted it slowly and then scolded Yuri on his language.

“You’re not my dad, fuck off.” Yuri shot back.

“You’re so cute when you need parental guidance,” Viktor teased. He glanced over at Yuuri with a wink. “Please excuse him. He’s always like this when he’s away from his grandfather.”

“Eat ice.” Yuri flipped Viktor off before bounding up the stairs to presumably go back to his own room.

Viktor continued to chuckle until Yuri was out of earshot, and then turned his overwhelming attention on Yuuri. There was a perplexed tilt to his head, his eyes holding Yuuri’s as if he could read Yuuri’s mind if he just tried hard enough.

“So…” he started, “Katsu – ”

“So what’s up with Yuri and his grandfather!?” Yuuri cut in, shaking his hands about wildly, in hope that it would sufficiently distract Viktor from Yuuri’s shame. He was not ready to own up to his terrible ‘realization’ of Eros. Not yet. Probably not ever.

Viktor blinked at the change in subject, a bit of the edge to his expression lost. Yuuri relaxed from being under the scrutiny of Viktor’s eyes.

“Oh,” Viktor sat back. “Yura was raised by his grandfather. It’s a rather sensitive subject for him, so I suggest you don’t bring it up unless you know how to deflect a kick from an angry teenager trained in ballet.”

Noted. Yuuri thought of the kick that Yuri had aimed at the bathroom stall, back when he had caught Yuuri crying alone on a public toilet, and decided that he was lucky that it was not aimed at his head. Though, Yuuri couldn’t help but to think, Viktor was the one who brought up Yuri’s guardian situation in the first place. Did Viktor have some sort of pass on the subject? More importantly, why would he even mention it if he was just going to shut down further talk about it?

But then Yuuri noticed that it was growing late, and he and Viktor were the only ones in the room. Yuri’s scent – a musty scent, slightly sweaty whether Yuri was working out or relaxing – still lingered in the room, but it was starting to dissipate. That left only the walking candle aisle sitting right in front of Yuuri. Makkachin was there, but the dog was more focused on trying to steal pork strips from Viktor’s dinner, than keeping Yuuri from doing something he really shouldn’t do.

Yuuri shot up.

“I’mgoingtogoonajog!” He exclaimed in one breath.

* * *

Viktor was evil. Maniacal. Something along those lines. Because he did not let Yuuri live down the katsudon thing.

When Yuuri ran through the Eros routine, he couldn’t focus on the story he came up with it because Viktor would interrupt with shouts of “think of the juicy pork!”

The very driven male in Yuuri would think one lewd thought, and the other thirsty animal in Yuuri would think of an entirely different thought. Neither thoughts were helpful when he could locate Viktor from across the rink by scent and sound alone. Both thoughts would trip him up in a jump and land him face down on the ice.

Yuuri spent so much time worrying over being a threat to either Yuri or Viktor’s safety, that he barely had enough energy to figure out how he was going to approach Eros in a way that would surprise Viktor well enough into staying.

Increasingly frustrating was that the mention of Yuri’s grandfather must have struck the teen with some inspiration, because after a morning at the temple, he came back with a thoughtful, vulnerable expression. Meaning, he was one step closer to mastering his Agape routine than Yuuri was anywhere near balancing one, his aversion to dancing the role of a succubus, with two, needing to keep Viktor with him in Hasetsu.

In one tiny blessing, Yuri must have decided that Yuuri was too much an inexperienced child to play the role of threatening monster, so the younger skater let up on the glares and threats. Enough so that when Viktor didn’t show up an afternoon – something about a hangover – Yuuri worked up the nerve to ask Yuri to help him with the Salchow.

Yuri Plisetsky was loud, annoying, and probably over-compensating for something (his height, maybe?), but Yuuri quickly learned that the kid never had malicious intent against competitors. Maybe it said something to how confident Yuri was that he would take home a medal for his senior debut, but when Yuuri asked for help on jumps, he received that help.

It wasn’t bad help either. A bit more critical than Viktor’s – which was saying something. But still attentive and easy to return with an equally sarcastic response.

By the time Viktor arrived at the rink, disheveled and looking in great need of some greasy hangover cure food, the Yuris were quipping back and forth at each other.

Though, while Yuuri was relieved to not have to overcompensate his trustworthiness in front of Yuri, it still stumped Yuuri why Yuri treated him the way he did. Things went from threatening Yuuri with a switchblade, to yelling at Yuuri to be careful ‘or you’ll hurt your face on that fall, and you don’t want to upset that idiot Viktor, huh?!’ Or at least, Yuuri could only assume that was Yuri’s way of making sure he was okay. Sort of. It was still hard to tell with the Russian punk.

Yuuri paused in his own skating to watch Yuri run through his Agape routine. He, like Viktor, could see that Yuri was truly expressing what Agape meant to him. The movements were softer, so unlike first impressions. Even Yuri’s heartbeat seemed to take on a different rhythm.

Was Yuri dancing in honor of his grandfather, the one who raised him? It made Yuuri wonder about the kid’s parents. Were they ever in the picture? Did their absence have anything to do with Yuri’s distrust of vampire Yuuri?

As Viktor and Yuuri marveled at the change in Yuri’s skating, these questions burned in the forefront of Yuuri’s mind.

* * *

Morning, the day before Hasetsu on Ice, Yuuri looked outside to find the sky clouded over. Taking it as an opportunity, he pulled out his gear and headed over to Ice Castle. He planned on doing a few warm up sets in the small gym, and then maybe skate around during open rink time. He knew Yuuko wouldn’t mind.

He was surprised, when he walked into the gym to find Yuri Plisetsky already there. The two somewhat acknowledged each other before getting back to their own routines, Yuri at the elliptical.

About ten minutes in, Yuuri’s curiosity got the better of him. He paused in the middle of some stretches and stared at Yuri until the teenager noticed.

Yuri pulled out an earbud. “Huh? What do you want?”

“Er, I was wondering… about your inspiration for Agape…”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed, “What about it?” he growled.

(Yuuri had to remind himself, in that moment, that he was a near indestructible immortal who was also trained in ballet.)

“Your inspiration… is your grandfather, right?”

A slight intake of breath was the only change in Yuri’s posture. His expression remained a deadpan glare. Still, he didn’t show any signs of pirouette kicking Yuuri to death, so Yuuri pressed on bravely.

“Your grandfather is important to you?”

“Agape would imply as much, yeah?” Yuri spat back, his patience wearing thin.

Yuuri nodded, glanced down, and tried his best to not sound like he was prying too much. Though, it was probably too late to make that attempt.

“Did… did something happen to your parents?”

“What?” Yuri scrunched up his face in bewilderment. “Are you asking if they died or something?”

“Er, well, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable–”

“My parents aren’t dead. Where the hell did you get that idea from?”

Yuuri blanked. The entire conversation he had planned slipped through his fingers, leaving him with absolutely no idea how to proceed. Yuri’s parents weren’t dead? So they weren’t attacked by vampires? Or were they, and survived?

“Um, well, I just… aren’t you being raised by your grandfather?” Yuuri offered. It was a weak explanation, and Yuri just stared at him like he was trying to claim two plus two equaled a bowl of katsudon.

“Yeah,” Yuri deadpanned in response. “Cause my parents were teenagers mixed up in some edgy vampire lover shit when they had me. Grandpa raised me while mom and dad had to get their lives together.”

“Oh.” Yuuri stared in shamed quiet at his hands, now folded in his lap.

The story did explain some things. If Yuri’s parents were involved with vampires, then Yuri would likely know about them.

“Look, Grandpa was a vampire hunter. Mom was overly sympathetic towards vampires. She even thinks that vampires should go public and demand equal rights.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “As if that wouldn’t be a shitstorm waiting to happen.”

Yuuri glanced at the teen. He kind of agreed about how difficult it would be to go public about his identity – he could barely stand the thought without feeling like dying a second time – but it would be a little nice not to be considered a monster by default. Yuri huffed back in response.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t _hate_ vampires. I’m just not exactly a fan. Grandpa raised me on how to identify and kill vampires… mom and dad said I should always give them a chance. Mixed signals, you know?”

“But you don’t like me… you want to go back to Russia with Viktor…?”

“One, I came here to receive my end of the bargain. Finding out you got turned just strengthened my resolve to drag Viktor back to Russia.”

“That… sounds like you don’t like me.” Yuuri concluded dumbly, wondering if he missed something.

“I’m indifferent to you.” Yuri sniffed, raising himself up to look convincing. “The problem is with Viktor. I’m trying to get him out of here before he figures you out. Viktor _hates_ vampires.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

Yuuri’s entire being went cold.

Viktor hated vampires.

If Viktor discovered what Yuuri was… then Viktor would hate him.

Viktor would hate Yuuri.

And of course he would. Even without the vampirism, it wasn’t like Yuuri was anything special or likable. There was nothing about him that could possibly exempt him from Viktor’s hatred. It was only a matter of time before Viktor realized that he was wasting his time.

It would be better, then, if Viktor left now. It would be better for Viktor to remember Yuuri as some nameless quitter than as a monster.

The idea of Viktor leaving still _hurt_.

“Do you know why?” Yuuri asked. He barely noticed how evident his panic had become, or how Yuri’s expression had softened slightly.

“Did you know about his older sister?”

Inna Nikiforova. Yes. Anyone who had followed Viktor’s career from the time he was in juniors would know about her. When Viktor didn’t have any social media accounts, Inna had a MySpace. She would post a number of pictures of her and Viktor – showing off his medals, doing each other’s hair, making fun of Viktor for having a hot cocoa mustache…

The two were practically inseparable. Skating fans were just as devastated as Viktor was when she died in an accident nine years ago. Inna had famously been Viktor’s number one fan. Without her support, he crashed in the Russian nationals, and wasn’t able to compete in Worlds that year due to a leg injury.

News from him was almost nonexistent that summer, during the offseason. Everyone who had been worrying about his untimely retirement from figure skating were overjoyed when he promptly came back to ice for the 2007-8 skating season.

Yuuri remembered watching Viktor’s 2007 theme on revival, trying to enjoy his idol’s return. His short program outfit was modeled like a phoenix, and the routine was a burst of energy.

But Viktor had cut his hair short. He had even stopped painting his nails.  

Most fans were just happy that Viktor was back. But some still tossed around their concerns about the entire situation. The Nikiforov family had been incredibly quiet about Inna’s death, and no one knew the actual cause. Tabloids speculated and rumors spread, but at the end of the day, Inna’s death was shrouded in mystery.

No one knew how she died.

Yuuri gasped.

“And Viktor… he knows what happened?” Yuuri stammered out.

Yuri dropped his stare to the floor. “Viktor was the one who found his sister’s body.”

Yuuri’s throat tightened. First his hands started to tremble, and then his entire frame began to shake.

Viktor’s beloved, beautiful, innocent sister… was killed by a vampire.

Yuuri was the same type of thing that tore one of the most important people out of Viktor’s life.

He didn’t know if he wanted to be sick or scream. He didn’t even know if he could be sick. Some sort of whimper gargled up from the base of his throat.

Yuuri jolted up, starling Yuri out of his sobriety.

“You have to take Viktor back to Russia!” Yuuri shouted at Yuri, who sat back with wide eyes. “He can’t stay here! Not around me!”

“W-what?!” Yuri balked, but Yuuri was already after his own gear.

“I need to tell him.” Yuuri muttered, mostly to himself. “I need to tell him to go back to Russia.”

“Hey, wait, idiot, you can’t just – ” Yuri tried to get up, stumbling off the bike, to cut Yuuri off.

But Yuuri was already out the door.

He found Viktor on his laptop in the lounge, facing away from the door. It allowed Yuuri a moment to just watch Viktor, unguarded. From the looks of it, Viktor was studying one of Yuuri’s old programs and making notes about it. The care that Viktor extended to an honestly forgettable routine clenched at Yuuri’s heart. It would be hard to send Viktor back home to Russia – no, torturous – but this was the right thing to do and it had to be done.

Viktor glanced behind himself when Yuuri walked into the room. It still being in the morning there were no other patrons there, no one enjoying a drink or afternoon television programs. The news playing on the tv was at a low volume.

Viktor, upon seeing Yuuri, broke out into a grin, raising a hand to invite Yuuri closer, but Yuuri shook his head and remained in the threshold.

“I forfeit.” He announced.

Viktor’s smile first froze, his hand still out, and then his brows fell.

“Pardon?”

“The competition. Hasetsu on Ice. I forfeit.”

Viktor bolted up and rushed over to where Yuuri stood, who took a thoughtless step back. Yuuri’s small retreat made Viktor pause, his hand still reaching out.

“You made that promise to Yurio before offering to coach me.” Yuuri added, the only sensible excuse he could think of, sans his very existence being a potential traumatic trigger. “I don’t think there should be a competition.”

There was a moment where Viktor searched Yuuri’s eyes, opening and shutting his mouth a few times. Finally, he asked, in a small voice, “This is your decision?”

“Yes.” Yuuri said, not breaking eye contact.

But then, of all of the ways Viktor could have reacted, Yuuri did not expect a sudden steel cold smile, and eyes turned to ice.

“Does this mean you’re scared?” Viktor asked, tilting his head.

Viktor’s heartbeat pounded at Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri could feel carefully contained anger rolling off of Viktor in waves. He wanted to take another step back, but forced himself to stay firm.

“No,” Yuuri said.   _‘Yes.’_ His head said. _‘But not for the reasons you think.’_

“How could you ever win the Grand Prix if you can’t even skate against one child?” Viktor snapped, his smile a force of nature, taking a step forward to loom over Yuuri. “I gave you a chance to keep me here as your coach, and you’re _throwing this chance away_?”

“Er, no,” Yuuri tried to argue back, startled. He wasn’t scared of Yuri – not as a competitor, at least.

“Then you will skate tomorrow?”

“I…”

The twitch in Viktor’s smile and the flash in his eyes left little room to argue. Part of Yuuri was a little angered by Viktor’s reaction. Yuuri was trying to protect Viktor, but he couldn’t just tell Viktor ‘hey, you should go back to Russia because I’m the same type of monster that killed your sister.’

Still, Yuuri didn’t know if he was angry with himself or Viktor right now. The lines were too blurred. There was a part of Yuuri that was very much in agreement with Viktor right now. If Yuuri couldn’t handle this competition, then there was no way he’d ever medal in the Grand Prix.

Yuuri just hated himself all the more that this part of him was starting to win out over the logical side that was trying to protect Viktor.

Viktor was still staring down at him.

“Will you?” Viktor asked again, painfully unhappy about having to repeat himself.

Some sort of resolve snapped. If Yuuri backed down now, he could end up a ruined skater the rest of his life. He would never even cross paths with Viktor again.

That thought hurt so, so, so much.

But if Yuuri could do this… if he could win Hasetsu on Ice, and keep his secret… well, he’d finish the season with both a medal and Viktor Nikiforov’s approval. Then he could send Viktor back to Russia and Viktor would never have to know what Yuuri truly was.

“I will!” Yuuri declared, balling his hand into a fist. “I will skate tomorrow! And I’m going to give it all the Eros I got!”

“Perfect!” Viktor cheered, clapping his hands together, his false smile breaking to reveal an eager grin.

* * *

The idea of consequences didn’t catch up to Yuuri until he was standing on that podium, Viktor’s hand around his shoulder, trying to pay more attention to the interviewer than Viktor’s excited heartbeats and heartbreakingly delicious scent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand this is where the angst starts. 
> 
>  
> 
> So before anyone says that Viktor was being manipulative or that Yuuri was being selfish, there is a point. I read a meta somewhere (if I find it, I’ll leave a link) that for Yura and Yuuri, Agape and Eros represented selflessness and selfishness, respectively. And that Viktor chose Yuuri to do Eros, not just cause the boy already seduced him at the banquet, but because it was Viktor’s way of encouraging a confident selfish side out of Yuuri. The meta suggested that Yuuri was able to win Hasetsu on Ice because he finally embraced the ‘selfish’ side of him that wanted Viktor to stay. I really liked that interpretation, so fanfic Viktor egging Yuuri on was Viktor intentionally bringing out Yuuri’s ambitious, more self-serving nature. For better or worse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented! The feedback is so encouraging! I've never received this amount of support for a multi-chapter work before.
> 
> I still appreciate constructive critiques!

Once Yuuri had learned what had happened to Viktor’s sister, he had no other choice but to avoid his coach as much as reasonably possible.

Yuuri was still determined that, with Viktor’s help, he would find a way to medal at the GPF. But if he was going to succeed, while also going months without garnering Viktor’s suspicion, without Viktor figuring out that Yuuri was a vampire, then he would have to meticulously keep everything between him and Viktor professional, distant.

It was hard though.

Viktor had no way of knowing that Yuuri was trying to protect him, so he continued to chase after Yuuri’s affection. Worse yet, Yuuri was no less needy. Every time he caught a flicker of Viktor’s flower bouquet of a scent, he just wanted to follow it until he was wrapped in the man’s arms. At night, he would pass Viktor’s guest room to the sweet sound of Viktor’s resting heart, and Yuuri just wanted so badly to peek through the door to see Viktor’s sleeping face.

It was as if the universe had cursed Yuuri with gifting him the presence of a god every day, but with the painful knowledge that this gift was more fragile than a porcelain vase sitting cliffside.

In order to remind himself just how paramount it was to keep that vase from tipping over the edge, Yuuri hunted down material from Viktor’s youth.

Yuuri terrorized himself by re-watching Viktor’s routines from 2008 and onward, holding his watering eyes to the screen just to focus on Viktor’s lost expression and what Yuuri could swear were empty, hopeless eyes. Yuuri rewound and scrutinized any interview he could find of Viktor’s lonely smile. It couldn’t be denied; over the years, the idol smiled less and less over each gold medal.

This hadn’t gone over Yuuri’s head when he was younger. As a teenager, he had scrolled through every forum discussing the celebrity athlete’s depression. There were so many fans who scrambled to project on Viktor Nikiforov diagnoses of every mental ailment in the book. All the while, Viktor never spoke more than a few snippets about his recovery, whether physical or emotional. His coach, Yakov Feltsman, had handled those questions. Even then, the most anyone knew were the standard facts.

The standard facts, though – ‘Viktor’s injury will not keep him competing in the future,’ ‘There was no permanent damage,’ ‘The Nikiforov family would like to thank all of Viktor’s fans for their support,’ – never covered up the dark blue desolation in Viktor’s eyes.

God, before learning about Viktor’s sister, Yuuri had no clue, he didn’t think, he was so naïve… he didn’t truly know how a single vampire could tear more than one life apart.

But why shouldn’t he have known that? Yuuri thought of the scars littered down Ms. Grant’s neck, the way the vampire hunters of Detroit first looked at him, glared at him over Phichit’s bandaged shoulder, the shocked anger Yuri had cornered Yuuri with the moment he had discovered what Yuuri was…

Every time that thirst itched in Yuuri’s throat, he felt disgusted with himself. There was no way he could trust himself around anyone.

In order to guard himself, Yuuri selfishly asked if any one of the Nishigori could stay in the rink while Viktor was coaching Yuuri. There was no way Yuuri could let Viktor wind up alone with him. Thankfully, Yuuko was normally more than happy to stand rinkside. She would call out encouragement whenever Yuuri stumbled over a step sequence, or flubbed a jump. On the few occasions that the triplets were able to watch, Yuuri remembered to keep his vampire face cream in his training bag. Though, the triplets had gotten a little better about at least asking for permission before posting any videos or pictures on their mother’s Instagram account.

Yuuri was ever grateful, but in his heart, he knew that these measures weren’t to reignite old friendships.

One day, after practice, Yuuko stopped Yuuri right before he went back to the men’s locker room, so that she could ask if the two could skate around for a bit. Just for fun.

“Like old times, let’s practice old routines.” She offered, and then winked to add, “I can send Viktor- _kun_ back to back to Yu-Topia if you want to do some of _Viktor’s_ old routines.”

Yuuri looked down at the floor, staring at a pockmark in the concrete. “Tonight is a little…”

Yuuko’s brows upturned in concern, but she pressed forward with a smile. “Tired? Tomorrow, maybe?”

Yuuri made a noncommittal noise in response. “I don’t want to inconvenience you or Ice Castle any longer than I need.”

At that, Yuuko’s smile nearly fell. But she had known Yuuri long enough to recognize when he was in one of his moods. The two of them both knew that pushing would only upset Yuuri more, no matter how concerned Yuuko was. “I understand,” she stepped back, slipping her hands behind her back. “By the way, have you and Viktor started on your free program yet?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri turned his head up to nod briefly. “Though, we need to pick the music.”

What he didn’t say was that his plan of keeping things with Viktor perfectly professional was… not going exactly to plan. Choreographing an entire program with the man who insisted on being in Yuuri’s personal space all the time, when Yuuri had barely the self-control to pull away, was a challenge.

If it were anyone else!

See, Celestino would pick the music, choregraph the routine (with some of Yuuri’s input), give a few words of encouragement, and do it all without cornering Yuuri in the hot springs.

 _Viktor_ , on the other hand, liked to find any reason to scoot closer to Yuuri in the water. Yuuri, of course, being the responsible one, would shift away. Viktor would then try to touch Yuuri in some innocent yet obviously intentioned way, nearly ruining all of Yuuri’s inhibitions, but the audible thumping reminder of Viktor’s heart would send Yuuri scrambling to the other side of the pool.

But after a time, Viktor showed that while he was persistent, he wasn’t oblivious. After a few evenings of Yuuri still running away from Viktor’s touch, Viktor received the message loud and clear.

After a few nights like this, Viktor stopped trying to touch Yuuri altogether.

Yuuri was finally able to breathe a sigh in relief. Finally! He could develop the type of professional coach-student relationship that would excel him to the GPF while also keeping Viktor safe.

Except, when Viktor fell back into an affectionless routine with Yuuri, the man seemed to lose a part of what endeared him to Yuuri in the first place.

Days soon passed where their only interactions were Viktor’s sharp commands at practice, and limited discussion of Yuuri’s potential free program. (Discussions that were yielding absolutely nothing substantial.)

"Do you have a theme you'd like to use?"

"Not yet."

More than just a physical distance, the two stopped looking at each other, just to see the other looking back. Of course, Viktor still needed to watch Yuuri’s skating, but there was nothing of the warm excitement from days prior for Hasetsu on Ice. Most practices, it soon came, Viktor only had critiques to offer, with maybe some afterthought compliment.

 

"That spin wasn't balanced enough."

"I'll do it again."

"Your free leg is still sloppy."

"Yes, sir."

"You're overthinking your jumps again."

Nod. Repeat the jump. 

Once they returned to Yu-Topia at night, Yuuri would rush back up to his room.

"Good night." 

"..."

By that point, Viktor didn’t even bother anymore to ask Yuuri to bathe with him in the hot springs.

It was professional. No matter the distance between them, Viktor didn’t slack at all in making sure Yuuri stayed fit and received excellent training. This was exactly how things would have been if Yuuri was under the tutelage of an experienced, sought after coach. Yuuri could still make it to the Grand Prix Finals like this.

So why did every night find Yuuri in his bed, staring at his ceiling, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over an emptiness that he just couldn’t fathom?

Yuuri choked back tears thinking of the beautiful smiles that Viktor had blessed him with when the Living Legend had first come to Hasetsu. Yuuri remembered the absolute, unrestrained joy that Viktor had expressed at being shown around Hasetsu. Yuuri thought of the way Viktor would lean in close, tip Yuuri’s chin up, and take Yuuri’s breath away with just a few perfectly delivered words.

All these moments had been like July fireflies. Yuuri wanted to collect every true, unabashed smile from Viktor, and keep them tucked away for colder days.

It _hurt_ that Viktor wasn’t smiling like that anymore. Yuuri could no longer deny how much he missed Viktor’s more eager, warm, _alluring_ coaching style.

But that was dangerous. It was even dangerous to think that way.

If things worked now, then Yuuri had to stay on this path.

If everything all worked out, then maybe Yuuri would see that firefly smile one more time, when he wore a medal. That achievement, Yuuri argued with himself, would be worth all the strained glances when they passed each other, or the way Viktor would sometimes stop as if he had something to say, shake his head, and keep walking.

Once Yuuri won Viktor’s approval, then Yuuri would set Viktor free… back to the ice, back to the world that loved him… away from the one who could ruin him.

Yuuri repeated to himself, practically chanted it, that this was all necessary. It was better for Viktor to be mildly dispirited than for him to be screaming in terror back to Russia.

Or at least, Yuuri just thought Viktor was mildly dispirited.

He was proven wrong when he passed Viktor’s room one night to the sound of Viktor arguing on the phone.

It had taken a moment, though, to realize that Viktor was in an argument. While the voice on the other end – which Yuuri had to perk his ears to recognize as Yuri’s voice – was shouting back every response, Viktor’s tone never wavered from low and steady. The only indication that Viktor was upset was his wildly bearing heart, which Yuuri had already become acquainted with when Viktor had cornered Yuuri about competing in Hasetsu on Ice.

The two snipped back and forth in Russian, leaving Yuuri clueless over the subject of the call.

“ _Yuuri ne tronet menya seychas_ ,” Viktor then said, and Yuuri froze at the sound of his name.

Were they talking about him? Or was Viktor addressing Yuri? No, Viktor usually used the diminutive of Yuri’s name. Or Yurio, if he wanted to irritate the younger Russian.

“ _On ne posmotrit na menya, I eto vasha vina_.” Viktor continued, his heart racing.

They were talking about him. Viktor was angry… about Yuuri.

“ _Nyet_ ,” Yuri retorted. “ _Vam idioty nuzhno dogovorit’sja eto, samostoyatel'no!_ ”

Yuuri couldn’t stand to listen to any more of what they were saying. He retreated back to his room.

Feeling on edge, he checked twice to make sure that the fridge in his closet was still locked. He checked that the lock to his door still worked. The curtains still covered his window. All the posters were well hidden.

After going over his room two, three times, Yuuri was just left standing there, his hand uselessly clenching and unclenching. He tried not to think of what Viktor and Yuri could have been talking about.

Part of Yuuri wanted to check the translation for the Russian word for vampire… the rest of him wanted to avoid any potential anguish.

Yuuri couldn’t leave his room. He stared at the closed closet door.

 _Thump… thump… thump, thump, thump-thum-thum-thump_ –

There was a sharp knock at the door. The unmistakable sound of Viktor’s heartbeat coming from the other side. Viktor opened the door without waiting for an answer.

“Yuuri,” he said, announcing himself with little gusto, “Can we talk?”

Can we talk… about what?

‘Can we talk about how you’ve been lying to me?’ Yuuri’s mind supplied. ‘Can we talk about how abysmal your skating progress has been? Can we talk about how I’ve decided to leave? Can we talk about how you’re a monster and I never want to see you again?’

“Right now?” Yuuri could only ask in response, turning only a fraction.

“ _Yes_.” Viktor answered, sharp. But then his tone softened, with effort. Yuuri knew better because he was still counting Viktor’s stressed heartrate. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Alright. It was nighttime outside anyways. And if Viktor was scared of Yuuri, then he wouldn’t suggest an activity that Yuuri could easily use to get Viktor alone and vulnerable –

“Is Makkachin coming too?” Yuuri spun to face Viktor.

Viktor eyed him a moment, and then nodded. “Of course.”

They went west, towards the shore. Yuuri kept at least a meter and a half of distance between himself and Viktor, as Makkachin had already bounded ahead into the darkness of a beach at night. Some lights from the town reflected off of the black sea, illuminating where Viktor and Yuuri were walking.

The open air and presence of Makkachin’s energy afforded a salve to what could have been a strained silence. All the while they walked down the shore, Viktor stared out at the waves.

“The water looked almost like this when I left St. Petersburg.” Viktor finally said, pausing, his feet sinking a bit into the sand. The water slipped up close, but never reached where he stood. “I didn’t get a chance to see it out the plane window though.”

In the soft glow from the town, Yuuri could almost make out a fond smile making room on Viktor’s face.

“Yakov tried to talk me out of it, leaving to come here I mean. But I think he knows that there’s no persuading me otherwise, once I’ve made up my mind.” Viktor chuckled. “Yakov always said that I think too much of myself, that once I want something, I won’t stop until it’s mine.”

Yuuri frowned, trying to understand what Viktor was trying to say. Was this Viktor’s way of saying that he regretted coming to Japan?

But, yet again, Viktor surprised Yuuri by turning to look at him with vulnerable eyes, his smile wavering. “Have I pushed you too much, Yuuri?”

Yuuri blinked, grateful that his surprise was masked by the shadows in which he stood.

Viktor thought that the strain between them… was _his own_ fault.

Viktor thought that he had done something wrong by insisting on invading Yuuri’s space. But it wasn’t that. Viktor had no idea what kind of monster he had been trying to snuggle with. God help him, was it even pushing if Yuuri _wanted_ him there?

A memory came to Yuuri, and he turned to the side to tell Viktor a story about a girl from Detroit. One who was always trying to help Yuuri, even when he didn’t think he needed it. He confessed how her pestering about his welfare made him feel doubted, weak.

“I like it when people have faith in my ability to succeed on my own.” Yuuri concluded. That wasn’t what Viktor was doing. Viktor seemed to trust in Yuuri’s ability to succeed a little too much. So Yuuri told Viktor all this in a hope that Viktor would be placated. It was fine if there was distance between them. Yuuri could handle it on his own.

Viktor scoffed. 

“You’re not weak,” Viktor said. “No one thinks that. Thinking that you can do everything on your own, though, isn’t strong… it’s shortsighted. It’s time for you to stop closing yourself off to others, no matter how much you don’t think you deserve their support.”

The two stared at each other.

Understanding dawned on Yuuri. Viktor still didn’t know that Yuuri was a vampire. He just thought that it was Yuuri’s human insecurities alone that had kept them apart. It was a reasonable assumption. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Yuuri was weaker mentally than most.

“I’ll do my best to be what you need.” Viktor added with a soft smile and tilt to his head.

Yuuri shook his head. “I want you to stay who you are.”

And with the way the lights danced off the water, Makkachin splashing off a little into the distance, and the absolute trust shining in Viktor’s eyes, the moment was sincere. The July firefly appeared once more.

Which was why Yuuri was so grateful that the darkness obscured the tears welling up in his eyes.

Viktor was absolutely perfect. He was so trusting, so gracious, to meet Yuuri halfway, to make room for Yuuri in his life.

And every day, Yuuri would continue to betray Viktor’s trust… just by existing.

* * *

To Viktor, that night by the water had smoothed the strain between the two of them.

The morning following their walk, Viktor was hesitantly smiling again, and was encouraged by Yuuri responding to his attempts at casual conversation. The two closed the distance by a few centimeters. More so, at times, Viktor would caress his hand along Yuuri’s shoulder, or let them brush arms when they walked next to each other.

For Yuuri, guilt and anxiety had gargled up to form an insistent lump in his throat. It stayed there for days.

Viktor didn’t want them to be distant anymore. Yuuri was weak to whatever Viktor wanted. But Viktor thought that his desire benefitted the both of them, in the long run. But it _didn’t_ , and Yuuri couldn’t _explain_ that without _completely defeating the purpose_ by revealing his vampirism.

Yuuri did what he could. He never let Viktor come too close for too long. Still, every time he slipped out of Viktor’s offered embrace, he tried not to pay attention to the way Viktor’s smile would disappear from his eyes, before his coach went on acting like everything was perfectly fine.

They went through the motions, almost as if Yuuri was on autopilot. If Viktor wanted to pretend like the two were getting along without a fault, then Yuuri would pretend as well.

When Celestino called, the three of them talked about choosing music for and choreographing a free program. Normal figure skating business. Viktor learned that Yuuri already had a demo of music made. They focused the conversation on that.

Belatedly, Yuuri realized that since Celestino was from a vampire hunting family, then he would likely know about Viktor’s sister.

Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was hypervigilance or paranoia that he kept seeing a dip of concern in Celestino’s expressive brows. Maybe both.

Right before ending the call, Celestino paused with a narrowed eye frown.

“I have to say,” he said, slowly. “I’m surprised that you’re still playing at coach right now, Viktor.”

Viktor’s smile, in turn, turned plastic. His heart thumped up in annoyance, beneath the mask. “Yuuri is a wonderful student.”

“… I see.” Celestino replied.

Tension filled the air, even over cellular waves. That lump in Yuuri’s throat edged up, threatening to spill over and break confidentiality, just to find out what Celestino knew or didn’t know.

“Ah, I’m going to redeem myself at the next Grand Prix!” Yuuri shouted instead, interrupting the discomfort.

His former coach voiced approval, and then the call ended.

When Viktor demanded to hear the music, Yuuri was left to go through another set of motions. Have Viktor listen to the music. Be ‘encouraged’ to have something better composed. Face the prospect of reaching out to someone he had let down back in college.

On the upside, there was one person Yuuri knew who still kept in contact with many of the people that they had gone to college with: Phichit.

It was an absolute needed relief to call up Phichit. Yuuri grasped for a distraction from the guilt that had welled up in his throat and cried for attention.

Fortunately, Phichit understood when Yuuri didn’t turn his camera on for his side of the call. A little gray anonymous sat in the box of Yuuri’s video feed, unjudged and unquestioned.

Phichit was back in Bangkok, the warmth and sun having done wonders for him. He even showed off the faded, barely-there scar on his neck.

“Those Patroller doctors did a great job stitching me up!” Phichit beamed. “I was a little worried that I would have to wear turtle-neck costumes from now on, but with a little foundation, you can’t see it at all!”

“ _Cěng_ ,” Yuuri smiled.

“Not that I mind turtle-neck costumes,” Phichit continued to ramble, and Yuuri sat back, just letting the happy thoughts of his friend wash out the crawling guilt-ridden gray clouding up his own mind. “But it’s good to have variety, you know? Cause you know the costume just makes or breaks the performance. I’ve already put some thought into my costumes for this season. It’s gonna be great. I’m so excited!”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“What about you? How’s your programs going? I saw that picture of you in Viktor’s old costume and,” Phichit wolf whistled. “You look good!”

Yuuri blushed. A weird habit he didn’t lose from becoming a vampire, but oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. “We’re still working on the free program. By the way, you know that girl I had compose a demo for me?”

“Yeah.” Phichit nodded. “Want me to help get in touch with her?”

“Please.”

“Cool, cool,” Phichit then tilted his head and squinted at the camera, almost comically. “Okay, but how are _you_ doing? Are you getting used to, ya know, everything?”

Yuuri winced. He should have expected that Phichit’s curiosity for all things new and unusual would turn the conversation back to Yuuri’s vampirism.

“It’s easier,” Yuuri lied. And then, to make it a bit more realistic, he added, “Dad’s come up with over a dozen dishes that fit in with my new, er, diet.”

“Whoa, those gotta be some crazy recipes!”

Part of Yuuri was tempted to reach out, tell Phichit about the issues between him and Viktor. But the story of Viktor’s sister was not Yuuri’s to tell, and Yuuri couldn’t risk the phone call being overheard by anyone.

So Yuuri held his tongue.

With Phichit believing that everything was going well on Yuuri’s side, they adjourned the conversation.

Phichit kept up his word, finding the classmate. Within a week, Yuuri had a new demo and Viktor’s approval of said demo. They could finally start choreographing the actual free program.

With the progress on Yuuri’s routine, he could almost ignore that lump in his throat. He and Viktor had become so focused on the free program that it slipped Yuuri’s care that Viktor had started leaning against him more often, or that Yuuri had started smiling more at Viktor’s jokes and other shenanigans. As the weeks passed, and spring moved on into summer, Yuuri started to feel more optimistic. Hiding his vampirism had become second nature. Viktor still didn’t suspect anything.

He could do this, Yuuri started to think, he could actually go onto the Grand Prix Final with Viktor by his side!

Some time in early August, Yuuri showed up at Yu-Topia to find Yuuko spluttering out attempts at admonishing her children. It turned out that the Nishigori triplets and Viktor had collaborated in sneaking Makkachin onto the ice rink.

“But Makka’s not used to the hot weather, Mom!” Axel had protested, as Viktor rushed across the ice to keep Makkachin from falling again.

“Yeah, he’s happy!” Lutz added. Yuuri watched as Makkachin slipped from running, momentum carrying him forward on the ice.

“We were being good hosts!” Loop said, with sweet eyes. Makkachin slid past right behind her, Viktor in tow. Makkachin’s tongue lolled in unrestrained doggy glee. Viktor couldn’t stop laughing long enough to get a proper grip on his own dog.

Watching the scene unfurl in front of him, Yuuri couldn’t help himself. He doubled over in laughter, eyes watering. After months of stress, anguish, and doublechecking himself, it felt so good to let loose.

The Nishigori crew and Viktor paused to acknowledge Yuuri’s entrance, Viktor’s eyes absolutely twinkling at the sight of Yuuri laughing so hard.

He skated over to where Yuuri was rinkside – the triplets taking over dog duty.

“Yuuuuri,” Viktor sang, his grin lighting up every bit of his face, “tell Yuuko that dogs should also experience the joy that is ice skating.”

It wasn’t fair what that smile did to Yuuri’s dead heart, glowing the way it did in that modestly lit ice rink. Yuuri’s heart almost felt like it would start beating again. In that moment, he would convince Yuuko to let a whole zoo into Ice Castle if he could see that smile every day.

Well, more like, Yuuri would tell Yuuko to let Viktor have his fun if he could stop laughing and get in a word. Out of sheer habit, he clutched at his side, trying to get himself under control before he started snorting.

Somewhere out on the ice, Makkachin had managed to get back on his own feet, just to barrel into one of the triplets. Yuuko scrambled out on the ice, sliding in tennis shoes, to help up her daughter.

Very little of this caught Yuuri’s attention; he was preoccupied with the way Viktor leaned against the barrier wall towards him. Yuuri gulped in air to steady himself, and met Viktor at the barrier.

“I’ve never seen you laugh like that before,” Viktor admitted in awe.

The shouts of the Nishigori triplets and mother faded out in yield to the ecstatic beating from Viktor’s chest. A flush of pink dusted Viktor’s nose and neck. Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off Viktor.

He nearly missed what Viktor had said, and blushed. “Yeah?” Coughed and then added, “I’ve never seen you laugh like that either.”

“Should I laugh for you more often?” Viktor breathed back, the two of them leaning in dangerously close. Everything about Viktor – his skipping heart, his heartbreaking scent, his enrapturing blue eyes – drew Yuuri in, against all better judgment.

“I think it would motivate me, yes,” Yuuri said. He meant to say it playfully, seductively, but it came out a little rushed. The awkwardness didn’t seem to deter Viktor. His eyes still twinkled.

Viktor opened his mouth to give a reply, but then Yuuko’s call cut across the rink.

“Viktor- _kun_ , please help your dog!”

 _Rarf!_ Makkachin added in emphasis.

Reluctantly, Viktor and Yuuri pulled back from each other, bashful smiles playing at their lips. Viktor skated back to the center of the rink to retrieve his dog.

Leaving Yuuri still winded, his face burning, at the barrier wall.

* * *

 

When September rolled around with the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship, Yuuri was in relatively hopeful spirits.

Granted, he had to take extra precaution at being in a crowd again.

When he had to take that plane ride from America to Japan, the scent diffusing mask had worked wonders. Even though Yuuri had to still deal with the cacophony of noises, at least nothing tempted him, smell wise.

Going out into town, in Hasetsu, was simple since locals thought nothing of someone wearing a mask. After a while, when Yuuri started to have a little more faith in himself through his interactions with Yu-Topia guests, he stopped wearing the mask out in town if it wasn’t sunny. He discovered, to his pleasant surprise, that the smell of the sea, food, and other urban amenities washed out most of people’s scents.

Nevertheless, it was the town and the people who had raised him. Even when he could smell everyone around him, it felt too much like extended family to become a temptation.

By the time he had to compete in Hasetsu on Ice, he was comfortable enough with the locals. He didn’t feel like he needed to take any extra precaution. That, and a great majority of his focus was on winning and keeping Viktor in Japan.

A competition spectated majorly by strangers, however, was a different challenge.

Yuuri typically experienced first competition jitters, but that was only exasperated by the fact that he was in an enclosed space filled with people he didn’t know, all with thumping hearts and wild expectations.

Before even entering the building, Yuuri applied a perhaps liberal amount of the vampire face cream. He made absolutely certain, by checking with his phone camera, that he had covered his face, neck, and hands. The flash of any camera still made him flinch.

When Yuuri could, he clung close to Minako and Takeshi, ever grateful that the two were able to come along. They were familiar and easy to be around. That, and neither of them questioned his proximity to them, as they likely assumed that he just needed the moral support.

If Yuuri could, he wore a face mask. Although, he received a few questions and concerns over if he was sick, or if he was fit to perform. After a few prodding questions of that nature, he tried to keep his face mask tucked under his chin. It didn’t afford nearly the same effect, but he could concentrate on it if needed.

This was all practice, Yuuri reminded himself fervently, of all coming competitions. He had to get this exactly right. He couldn’t afford any screw-ups. A missed jump, while frustrating and nerve-wracking in a competition, was nothing compared to the consequences if Yuuri revealed his vampirism in any way.

No distractions.

While Viktor rambled on about how Yuuri should just focus on getting a personal best, Yuuri was off on another plane, double checking his mental precautionary lists.

Did he have his vampire face cream close on hand, but still hidden from any curious eyes? Did he have an escape route planned in case he got overwhelmed? Did he have extra masks in his bag, just in case?

Yuuri frowned, staring at the floor, while he checked off every concern.

“Ah, Katsuki Yuuri!” Someone squeaked out.

The peep of his name cut through Yuuri’s concentration. He looked over to see one of the other skaters, inching up towards him. This skater had bleached hair that Yuuri was certain he had seen somewhere before, but, wait… this skater was trying to get close to Yuuri.

The skater was already close enough that Yuuri got a whiff of his scent. The blush on the boy’s cheeks only emphasized his presence. No, Yuuri couldn’t pay attention to that. He congratulated himself on walking away, putting the scent out of his mind. When no one was looking, he slipped his mask back up and took a few breaths.

He saw Viktor frown at him out the corner of his eye, so Yuuri slipped back to his coach. He chided himself for having to walk away like that, and puff at his mask like there was something wrong. Besides handling the crowd, Yuuri had to remember not to cause Viktor any concern.

It didn’t take long before Yuuri had perfected the art of ignoring anyone he didn’t know. It took so much of his concentration to ignore everything, but he did it.

Yuuri had dug himself into a ditch though, because he had stopped thinking about the upcoming short program. By the time he stood in the center of the rink for his Eros performance, he was completely blanking on the story behind the dance. The strum of guitar snapped him to attention. He started off methodically, trying to shut out the sound of everyone’s heartbeats, trying to ignore all the scents.

Yuuri was so focused on everything but the ice that he nearly tripped over his first jump, a triple axel.

He landed it to the supportive applause of the audience, but the following quadruple Salchow turned into a double and he touched down.  

No, no, this was not how it went in practice. In practice, Yuuri skated only for Viktor.

Desperately, for once, Yuuri let himself locate that oh so familiar heartbeat and scent. Just for this moment, he let himself become consumed by it. This skate, among others, was to keep Viktor by his side for one more day, just one more day. He would skate on the prayer to see Viktor laugh, just one more time. To walk with Viktor and Makkachin, just one more night.

Eros, the dance of lovers, and Yuuri was slipping into that role like a well-worn skate. His body became fluid, a perfect retelling of the story of the playboy being seduced by his own game. When Yuuri went into the jump combination, he landed it all perfectly. He heard Viktor’s heart leap at the landing.

Yes, this was all for Viktor.

Yuuri thought of Viktor’s smile, that day that Makkachin slid around the ice rink, and in a fit of selfishness, Yuuri imagined having that smile all to himself. He slid with abandon into the final pose, the music lifting and finishing in a flourish.

The cheers of the audience slowly filtered back to him.

Viktor clapped too, but when Yuuri returned to Viktor, his coach had a few complaints about the first half of the program. Fair enough, Yuuri had been expecting that.

What he hadn’t been expecting was to be accosted again by that same bleach blond skater as before.

Though, finally, he recognized the skater as the previous year’s national champion.

Minami Kenjirou professed to being a fan of Yuuri’s, showing off a replica of a costume that Yuuri had worn in 2011, back before he was taken under Celestino’s tutelage.

That was back during a time that Yuuri had just started participating in local competitions. Even though he had been going on eighteen then, he couldn’t do any quads (except maybe a quad toe loop a few times in practice, but certainly never in competition) and his Salchow was nonexistent.

That was a dark time, when Yuuri’s personal best for a short program never exceeded 69 points. Of course, Viktor Nikiforov had already bested a 90 point short program score when he was eighteen; and while 17 year old Yuuri was struggling to actually land anything better than a triple Axel in competitions, 21 year old Viktor was doing quad flips and had already made a name for himself for breaking the short program world record twice. Not just that, Viktor was lighting up the world of figure skating even after losing his sister and recovering from an injury. He did all of that while nursing a broken heart.

(Yuuri couldn’t even handle his panicked thoughts.)

Yuuri was so glad that Viktor knew next to nothing about Yuuri’s dark ages of skating. Would Viktor have even put in as much faith for someone who wasn’t a genius like him? Yuuri glanced between Minami’s Lohengrin replica and Viktor, hoping that Viktor wouldn’t ask too many questions about it later.

A stray, dark thought made Yuuri wonder if Minami’s seeming blind faith in Yuuri’s abilities meant that Minami would still be Yuuri’s fan even if he knew that Yuuri was a vampire.

Funny how stray thoughts like that could wreck such havoc. What little relief Yuuri had found in his focus on Viktor during the short program was lost at that stray thought. Yuuri had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea of having fans. Hasetsu locals liking him out a sense of hometown loyalty was one thing. Another skater looking up to him, enough to even imitate his skating, was something else entirely.

Ah, the potential consequences of literally anything going wrong just kept tallying up.

Maybe Yuuri should just get it all over with and drop off the face of the Earth. With all the reporters swarming over Minami’s challenge against Yuuri's dismissal of the Lohengrin costume, Yuuri did certainly feel like being swallowed by the ground would be a wonderful option.  

But, unfortunately, the ground at that moment did not seem to have a taste for vampire figure skaters.

In that case, Yuuri’s next best option was to put space between himself and his fan. There. No way that Yuuri could disappoint Minami if Minami could never get to know him in the first place.

Now there was just two things to focus on… avoid detection, redeem himself on the free program.

Why was Viktor acting so prickly now?

By the time the free skate rolled around, Viktor wasn’t in any better mood. Of course, he played nice with the reporters, and had a polite conversation with Minako – something about favorite bars in other countries, which Yuuri would have found mildly concerning, if he wasn’t so busy focusing on not ruining literally everything.

(He checked his phone’s camera to make sure all of the face cream was still doing its job, kept his scent diffusing mask tucked under his chin, recounted again in his head the last few times he fed, and all the while, ran his routine through his head a dozen times.)

But to Yuuri, Viktor couldn’t afford little more than his plastic smiles and underhand taunts.

No matter, Yuuri slipped onto the ice for warm up. At one point, Minami tried to skate up next to him. Yuuri did the responsible thing and slipped away from the younger, impressionable skater.

He came back to Viktor scowling, arms crossed with Yuuri’s skate guards in hand.

“How do you expect to motivate yourself to be a good skater when you keep avoiding everyone?” Viktor slammed the skate guards down on the barrier door in front of Yuuri. “How long will it take you to learn this? I’m disappointed in you.”

The words took a second to sink in, but Viktor had already walked away. Yuuri’s jaw dropped.

 _That’s_ what Viktor was so irritated about?

How was that fair? Granted, Viktor didn’t know the real reason that Yuuri avoided everyone, but still. Yuuri wasn’t trying to be rude or anything. Then again…

He checked out over the ice to see Minami preparing for his free skate. The kid was fidgeting in a way that Yuuri immediately recognized as anxiety. Oh. Did Yuuri cause that?

But he was only trying to be responsible!

A snarky voice in Yuuri’s head argued otherwise. That little, resentful voice pointed out the strain that Yuuri had caused between himself and Viktor when he had been trying to be responsible and professional. He thought of the pure joy in Viktor’s smile when Yuuri finally let go and laughed openly over something as simple as a dog on an ice rink.

Viktor’s words, from their night on the beach, floated back to him: “ _Thinking that you can do everything on your own, though, isn’t strong… it’s shortsighted. It’s time for you to stop closing yourself off to others, no matter how much you don’t think you deserve their support_.”

Yuuri wasn’t doing anyone any favors by avoiding them. Least of all, he wasn’t doing himself any favors.

His eyes followed back to where Minami had taken to the center of the ice.

Before he could second guess himself, Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed out, “Good luck, Minami- _kun_!”

The well wishes had an instant effect on his fan’s demeanor. Minami snapped right up and then snapped to the music that started to play, an excited grin dancing on his face.

Yuuri had that much of an effect on people? He could make them that happy?

As he watched Minami woo the crowd with his jazz number across the ice, Yuuri was starting to think that yeah, maybe he could have a positive effect on others.

When Yuuri’s turn for the free skate came up, Viktor was right there with a warm smile and a bit of chapstick for Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri had to fight the urge not to flinch back when Viktor put his finger to Yuuri’s lips, the scent of Viktor so close. Avoiding Viktor wasn’t the solution here. Avoiding anyone wasn’t the solution. Yuuri fell into Viktor’s offered embrace.

There was so much on Yuuri’s mind when he stepped onto the rink. That wasn’t good for his skating. At first, he couldn’t quite get into the feel, the story of the music. He was so mad at himself for being so oblivious of other people’s feelings, of being so obsessed with protecting people that he only hurt them in the end. He hated that it had been over half a year since he had been turned, and he still didn’t have a clue what he was doing. There weren’t any clear cut answers on how to act around your loved ones when you became a vampire. And in what world would he receive any guidance on how to balance being a vampire and a figure skater?

All his anger and impatience in himself charged the routine; he over-rotated a couple double jumps, and then slammed into a wall on another.

But it had been the first time in a long time that Yuuri was able to skate in a competition without focusing on what could go wrong. Yuuri couldn’t even remember the last time he hadn’t been so desperate to win.

In a crazy way, it was fun to finally just let his emotions fuel his skating. Not quite the right emotions for the routine, but still. This routine was about his career as a figure skater, right? So, this was him saying, to hell with it! He wouldn’t let being a vampire get between him and the ones he cared about, and the ones who cared about him.

Yuuri started that competition riding high on the thought of Viktor’s smile. He closed his routine on that same determination to keep that smile in his life.

And just as ever present as the sun, Viktor was right there at the edge of the rink to reward Yuuri with that beautiful, July firefly smile.

* * *

When the happy regional champion returned home, he was rewarded with a ‘vampire’ katsudon and the love and support of his family.

He could do this. Yuuri could do this. He wouldn’t let the vampirism rule his life.

…

But he became careless.

Too confident.

Because he left the door unlocked.

And Viktor had seen him. Blood in his hands. Red in his eyes.

…

And now Viktor was surely gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. Nothing beats character development more than thoroughly testing that character development with heartbreak.
> 
> Translation Notes:  
> I apologize for my use of google translate Russian... I needed it... for plot reasons...  
> " _Yuuri ne tronet menya seychas, On ne posmotrit na menya, I eto vasha vina._ " - "Yuuri won't touch me now, he won't look at me, and it's your fault."  
> " _Nyet, Vam idioty nuzhno dogovorit’sja eto, samostoyatel'no!_ " - "No, you idiots need to fix this, on your own!"  
> " _Cěng_ " - cool, great
> 
> For anyone who might be ready to fight me on Yuuri's definition of his dark days, please remember, the boy isn't comparing himself to the rest of the world. He's comparing himself to Viktor. (Also, Yuuri, 69 is totally a respectable score for a junior at 17, shut the fuck up.)
> 
> (lmao, “nah, I don’t have anxiety” I continue to tell everyone, even though I knowingly use the functions of my own head as inspiration for writing Yuuri’s inner monologue)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, I am... late. In updating this. I am so sorry and I hope I didn't lose all my readers.  
> Thank you to all who have stuck with it and are back for this update! 
> 
> As usual, I still happily take constructive critiques and feedback!

“The problem is with Viktor.” Yuri said. “I’m trying to get him out of here before he figures you out. Viktor  _hates_  vampires.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

Yuuri’s entire being went cold.

Viktor hated vampires.

If Viktor discovered what Yuuri was… then Viktor would hate him.

Viktor would hate Yuuri.

“Do you know why?” Yuuri asked.

“Did you know about his older sister?”

…

..

.

“Yuuri, you ran off so suddenly, I – ”

Viktor froze. His wide eyes remained unblinking at the sight before him.

At that moment, Yuuri’s eyes were a dangerous, feverous red; his canines pointed visibly, still washed with the red of the blood that he held in his hands.

(The same eyes of the monster that had killed Viktor’s beloved sister.)

…

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Yuuri repeated. “Please… just… leave me alone.”

“Alright.” Viktor returned to the door. He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Yuuri waited until he couldn’t hear the defeated footsteps of Viktor’s retreat. He imagined Viktor wandering in shock back towards his room, created in his mind the exact methodical motions with which Viktor was likely packing his bags.

The blood bag slumped from Yuuri’s hands, and Yuuri choked back a sob.

He thought up every horrible thing Viktor could say about him to his family, to warn them, and no matter how much it hurt, Yuuri told himself that he deserved every last accusation.

It was over. Viktor would surely come to his senses and flee, and it was every bit Yuuri’s fault.

Yuuri always knew he was on borrowed time. But there had always been that selfish, stupid part of him that yearned for just a little while longer with Viktor.

Not anymore.

Viktor was surely gone.

It was that stupid, selfish part of Yuuri that consumed him now. He gripped his knees to his chest, and cried.

* * *

.

..

…

There was a spot of blood on the floor. It was browning.

Yuuri hadn’t bothered to clean it up. It had been leftover from when the blood bag he had been drinking from (monster, inhuman creature, living off of another’s life force) slipped out of his hands and onto the tatami mat. 

There would be hell to pay if Mari ever discovered the stain. It would be a pain to get out now.

Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to care.

It had been hours – the sun had already fallen, risen, and was now sinking again – and he still hadn’t brought himself up from the curled-up ball he had become on the floor.

Staring at that stain.

He had gotten up long enough to absentmindedly stuff the half-empty blood bag into the cooler. That, he couldn’t stand to look at.

The stain was enough punishment, enough of a reminder on its own.

Yuuri fucked up.

And now Viktor was gone.

…

Yuuri choked back another dry sob.

Who knew even vampires could cry themselves hoarse?

The consequences of Yuuri’s careless mistake, of leaving the door unlocked, pounded against his mind all night long, like a rainstorm against a window. At each thought, Yuuri cried harder and curled in tighter on himself.

Viktor finally knew the truth. Viktor now knew that the person he had put in so much time and effort, pulled close to him time and time again, put faith in… was the thing that Viktor despised the most.

The careful deception that Yuuri had maintained for months now was broken.

Yuuri could only imagine…

Viktor would never smile at him again, much less look at him.

Yuuri was now left without a coach, right at the start of the season.

There was no way Yuuri could stumble through the competitions after all this. After losing Viktor.

His career had skidded to a halt, once more.

All because Yuuri had forgotten to lock the door.

…

Still in his pocket, Yuuri’s phone buzzed. Likely the fourth or fifth time since Yuuri had taken to his spot on the floor.

No more tears were coming. It wasn't like Yuuri couldn’t spend his life in this position. He shifted until he was sitting up, resting his head on his knees, and pulled out his phone.

Three of the buzzes had been Instagram notifications. Two of Phichit, taking selfies with fans in Bangkok; the other of a ballerina Yuuri liked and followed, posting a tutorial video.

There were two texts. One was from Phichit, elaborating on the Instagram posts. ‘ _the girls knew all the words to shall we skate!!!! after my own heart!!! <3 <3 <3_’

It was such a jarring contrast, between the emptiness that Yuuri felt after crying all night to find no resolution… and the bright optimism of his friend’s life.

The last thing Yuuri’s phone had notified him about was the second text, which was from his mother.

_-From: Okaasan_

_FRI at 2:59 PM_

_だいじょうぶ?-_

‘Are you okay?’

Yuuri checked the time. It was now 3:02 PM.

There was no point in worrying his mother so bad that she sent in Mari to chase Yuuri out of his room. Mari had a way of making Yuuri face things he didn’t want to face. Oftentimes, that thing he didn’t want to face was reality.

Reality. The thing that carried on even though Yuuri’s world had just spun to a stop.

There was still an onsen to run, chores to do…

Yuuri rubbed at his eyes, swallowed, and then finally hauled himself up off the floor. He made his way to leave his room, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. A vindictive part of Yuuri wanted to rip the doorknob out and melt it down for failing him like it did.

But that wasn’t rational.

(Neither was spending nearly 24 hours curled up in a self-loathing ball.)

Even though there was still a light trace of Viktor’s scent in Yuuri’s room, that fingerprint of a scent was nothing compared to the hallway. Walking past Viktor’s room, Yuuri had to hold his breath and clamp his hand over his nose and mouth.

He couldn’t bring himself to check in Viktor’s – no, the spare room, Viktor didn’t hold any claim to it anymore – even if just to see if he had already chased Viktor back to Russia or not. Chances were, if there were no immediate flights available, Viktor had spent the night in a hotel room. Maybe even the airport terminal. But the idea of seeing an empty room was, well…

Yuuri kept walking.

For now, he had to go downstairs, see his family, and resume life as it had been before Viktor ruined any semblance of complacency Yuuri could muster.

Even the main rooms smelled overwhelmingly of Viktor, and so did the dining room.

Yuuri walked in with his head down. He didn’t want his mother to have a full view of the heartbreak that he only had coming to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on mustering some brave face. But then, he opened his eyes to Makkachin nudging at his leg with a wet nose. The dog’s nose left a light print on Yuuri’s sweats, as Makkachin pressed for attention.

Affording a small lift to the corner of his mouth, Yuuri granted that attention with a halfhearted scratch behind Makkachin’s ears. The dog continued to bump its snout into Yuuri’s leg, not quite satisfied with just a measly scratch after Yuuri had disappeared all day.

Yuuri huffed out a poor excuse of amusement, staring down at Makkachin’s wide, begging puppy eyes. It only made Yuuri feel worse, missing Viktor more…

And then Yuuri’s attention snapped up to the table.

There, Viktor sat with Hiroko, a bowl of oranges between them. Viktor’s back was to the dining room entrance, scattered remnants of an orange peel on the table in front of him. A perfect flower of an orange peel sat in front of Hiroko. Viktor was hunched over a second orange, carefully imitating Hiroko’s method.

The scene was so domestic, so untouched, that Yuuri had to do a double take.

Still beneath his hand, Makkachin bumped into Yuuri’s leg again, feeling rather neglected that Yuuri had paused in his petting.

When Yuuri’s mother noticed him standing there, she greeted him. Viktor looked up at Yuuri.

“Ah, there you are.” Viktor said. “I figured you were going to try to skip practice today. You better get ready so that we can go down to Ice Castle as soon as possible.”

Was… was this a dream? Or was yesterday a nightmare?

Hiroko, then glancing between Viktor and Yuuri, shifted a little self-consciously. “Do you two need to be alone?” She asked Yuuri, in Japanese.

Viktor likely understood her well enough to want to reassure her. He gestured to the orange peels, and gave Hiroko a happy ‘ _orenji oh taberu koto oh oshieru_ , _arigatou gozaimasu_ ,’ to thank her for teaching him. It helped lessen the surreal tension in the room. Hiroko nodded with a pink smile, Viktor’s attempt at Japanese endearing her. Then he stood up and faced Yuuri again.

“Alright. We need to talk.”

Still not knowing if he was dreaming or not, Yuuri let Viktor lead them out to a side porch, Makkachin trotting right by their sides. The customers rarely frequented this area of the onsen, as the only view it afforded were shadowing trees in front of a peeling fence to an old backlot. Bored local teenagers liked to gather in that backlot to smoke.

It was a private spot. When the two sat down, Yuuri kept Makkachin between them. Makkachin flopped partially down on Yuuri’s lap, begging for more attention.

At first, they said nothing to each other. Viktor ate his orange slices while Yuuri scratched Makkachin’s head. And yet all around Yuuri was an agonizing lack of silence – seagulls, ocean, wind in the leaves, Viktor’s heartbeat…

Viktor swallowed his last orange slice and spoke first. “Yuuri,” he said. “I’ve known.”

“What?” Yuuri looked at Viktor, wide eyed. “Did… did Yuri tell you?”

“No,” Viktor also turned to return eye contact, creating sincerity. “I figured it out myself. Not too long after I arrived. I apologize, but since you and your family were trying so hard to hide it, I was worried I would have broken a cultural or family custom by saying something.”

Yuuri glanced off to the side, “Not a cultural custom per say… more so a Japanese law on keeping vampirism confidential.”

“Ah,” Viktor said, his tone a bit musing. “That as well.”

Yuuri looked back up, his brows pinching together. “But why did you stay then?”

Viktor blinked at that, and slightly balked. But then he chuckled in confusion. “Why would I leave?”

At that, Yuuri took a moment to blink and open his mouth a couple times, trying to find the words. “But… your sister,” he admitted, in a small voice, “don’t you… don’t you hate vampires? For what happened to her?”

The air around them turned somber. Viktor’s partially amused smile vanished.

“Ah, yes. Yuri did tell you about that.” Viktor looked off to one of the trees with a sigh. “I’m sorry, on his behalf, if he caused you unnecessary stress. I had… a word with him about it.”

Oh, Yuuri thought, was that what that argument on the phone was all about? If so… then back then… Viktor wasn’t mad at Yuuri…

The trees rustled around them, but innocently so; only a light drizzle was predicted for that evening.

“Of course, he didn’t know the whole story.” Viktor continued to stare at the tree. “It is true about Inna. And it is true that I did hate vampires… at first. But that kind of generalized hate, I came to learn, is absolutely senseless.”

Yuuri frowned at that, and Viktor glanced at him to see it. A corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched.

“Think of it this way,” Viktor said. “If it had been a Chinese man who had killed my sister, would it then make sense for me to hate all Chinese people?”

“No.”

“See? So, no. I don’t hate vampires. You have given me no reason to think that you are dangerous.”

Still on Yuuri’s lap, receiving Yuuri’s absentminded scritches, Makkachin let out a soft yawn. Viktor smiled, his eyes crinkling a little.

“And Makkachin likes you! Dogs are a good judge of character, you know. So, there isn’t a reason for me to leave.”

No reason except Yuuri’s lack of social skills or international gold medals.

“But Chinese people are… well, people. Vampires... we’re… not.” Yuuri supplied, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that not only did Viktor _know_ this _entire time_ – but he still wasn’t running away, or screaming out in terror. Did Viktor not get it? The gravity of all this?

Viktor laughed at that, incredulous. “Yuuri, Yuuri… if there’s anything I’ve learned, using humanity as a standard for purity and morality isn’t that good a method.”

Yuuri still frowned. This conversation was just making less and less sense to him. Maybe he should pinch himself to truly test that dream hypothesis.

Seeing that Yuuri wasn’t getting his point, Viktor sighed and tried again.

“You’re a fan of mine, so I’m going to assume you know about when I fractured my ankle?”

Yuuri winced. He had been glued to the grainy livestream video of the 2006 Russian nationals when it had happened. Right after the accident with Inna. Yuuri didn’t understand the Russian commentary about Viktor’s mental state, but the then teenage Viktor had no smile to fake for the cameras. There was no reason for him to get on that ice, but he did. Distracted, on edge, Viktor went into a jump all wrong.

Even when Yuuri could barely make out details in the low-resolution stream, the cameras had zoomed in upon Viktor crashing back down to the ice. Yuuri never wanted to see that cold sweat, agonized panic on his idol’s face ever again. 

It wasn’t a good memory to revisit, surely for either of them. But Viktor continued with his story.

“I was in physical therapy for three months… and my main therapist through most of it was a vampire.”

“What?”

“Crazy, huh?” Viktor nodded. “Dr. Kuznetsova. I had no idea, of course, when she first started seeing me. She’s probably one of the best doctors I have ever met. She knew exactly when I was at my limit, and could tell how stressed out I was the moment I came into her office. Later I learned it was because she could hear my heartbeat, and she had perfected the art of monitoring someone’s physiological state through smell. Remarkable, right?

She revealed her identity to me a bit on accident. And at first, I didn’t take it very well. I think I threatened her.” Viktor chuckled at his own expense. “She was far too patient and understanding. When I did come around, she told me her story. She had been turned when she was still in college. It turned her life completely upside down, and she nearly dropped out. But she pushed through, and is now highly recommended among Russian athletes.”

Another memory came to Yuuri. Viktor’s routines for the 2007-8 skating season. It was all about revitalization… coming back from the dead to become something beautiful. At first Yuuri assumed it was about recovering from emotional and physical trauma… but could there have been further meaning? Were those routines also Viktor’s way of moving past resentment and prejudice?

Finally, something clicked.

Yuuri remembered, from what felt like an eternity ago, locked away in that Detroit warehouse, what Ms. Grant had said about Yuuri’s effect on Phichit. One of a victim’s biggest fears was the fear of the unknown, she had explained.

“ _For Phichit to know you, and still be reassured of your humanity… it’s helping him more than you could ever know_.”

It still didn’t really all add up for Yuuri, but if Dr. Kuznetsova was for Viktor as Yuuri was for Phichit… then Viktor had less reason to fear vampires… less reason to hate Yuuri.

“You understand now?” Viktor asked, looking at Yuuri with gentle eyes. “Why I had no reason to leave?”

Yuuri nodded once, then twice, short bobs of his head.

“Good,” Viktor stood up, and held out a hand to help Yuuri to his feet as well. Though, Makkachin wasn’t particularly happy to have to get up from such a comfortable spot. Viktor and Yuuri apologized with generous head pats.

Once Makkachin was more or less satisfied, Yuuri turned to go back in the house. Viktor stopped him with a stern look.

“I do have to add… another reason I didn’t say anything was because it seemed like you were handling your vampirism well enough on your own. But for you to avoid feeding like you’ve been doing so recently…” Yuuri opened his mouth to deny it, but Viktor held a finger up to pause him, “Don’t try to lie, I can tell when you’re underfed. That is very irresponsible, and I will have none of that from here on out. If I’m going to help you win, then no more neglecting yourself and running off from practice to feed. Understood?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Viktor smiled. He wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, and at first Yuuri wanted to flinch away out of habit, but there was no reason to hide anymore.

Because Viktor knew. He knew, and crazily enough, he still wanted to be Yuuri’s coach.

Oh, how things unfurled...

* * *

As it turned out, Viktor did not intend to continue his style of coaching as if nothing had changed. He began to reveal to Yuuri that he was incredibly knowledgeable about vampirism. (So much to the point that Yuuri was embarrassed by how poorly he had hidden his secret from Viktor. No wonder his coach figured it out so quickly.) But even more so, Viktor was just about bouncing on his feet, ready to incorporate this knowledge into Yuuri’s training.

Most of what Viktor knew came from his interactions with Dr. Kuznetsova; but he had also learned a great deal by observing Yuuri. When Yuuri asked about how Viktor could tell when he was underfed, Viktor was more than happy to provide explanation. More so, unprompted, Viktor used that opportunity to give Yuuri some advice. They stood in the middle of the Castle rink, the winter sun already set. No one else was in the building, since Yuuko had left the key with Yuuri. Coach and student could talk about vampire matters openly.

“Clay animation!” Viktor answered, with a suspiciously bright smile. “You know how the movements in clay animations always seem so… so… stop and go?”

“Stilted?” Yuuri offered.

“Yes. When you are underfed, or past your feeding day, that’s what you look like. It doesn’t change your physical abilities too much, so you never seem to notice it. But it certainly takes away from the aesthetic of your skating.”

“Oh.”

“Of course, the longer you go unfed, the worse your physical movement. Now, as far I’m concerned, you’ve never gone more than ten, eleven days without feeding?”

Yuuri considered that, and nodded.

“Which still isn’t good, by the way. You’ve probably been told to feed once a week, every seven days? But I would personally recommend feeding every five to six days. You’re an athlete, remember?” Viktor wagged his finger. “Anyways, if you were to go two full weeks without feeding, then you too would notice the difference in your own skating. If you weren’t otherwise distracted, of course.”

‘Distracted with bloodlust,’ Yuuri finished in his head, openly grimacing.

Viktor huffed. “No, not like that. You greatly underestimate your own self-discipline, by the way, Mr. ‘My Special Skill is Dieting.’”

Yuuri’s cheeks turned pink. Viktor had seen his JSF profile. Probably had to go out of his way to Google Translate everything, just to know who he’d be coaching. Which meant that he had also seen that one of Yuuri’s greatest ambitions was ‘not to cry at the competition.’

And yet Viktor was still here…

“What I mean is, I’ve also noticed that you’re much more relaxed, mentally and emotionally, after feeding. There’s this brief period where you’re not as tense as usual. It helps a great deal with your jumps.”

Huh. That should have been more obvious, but Yuuri did feel less wired up after he fed. The practices right after feeding were always Yuuri’s best performances, because he was able to get out his head and into the music.

But then something else Viktor said caught up with Yuuri. That it would be best for Yuuri to feed every five to six days. It didn’t seem like a great change, but in the long term, it would all add up to a greater amount of needed blood. Currently, Yuuri received his rations every 42 days – the shelf life for frozen blood – and received enough to drink a half-liter every seven days. But to up that every five or six days? That would require higher rations.

Yuuri could ask for more blood, citing his athleticism as the reason. Or he could avoid any reason to further offend Agent Tanaka. It wasn’t like Yuuri could tell the _keiya_ ‘my very much human and non-family coach says I should feed more often,’ and not expect Agent Tanaka to slap handcuffs on Yuuri that very moment. Or however vampires were arrested.

(If they even had a right to due process.)

Did Viktor have any idea what he was suggesting?

“Er…” Yuuri started. “About my feeding schedule… I don’t think it would be possible to receive the needed extra blood.”

“Hm? Why not?”

Yuuri considered telling Viktor that he was already on a thin wire with the _keiya_ , but he didn’t want to worry Viktor, the same way he didn’t tell his family about Agent Nakamura’s warning.

“The _keiya_ only give set amounts of blood.” Yuuri instead offered weakly. It was a half lie. Yuuri had read that if a special request was granted, then a vampire could change their rations. But that type of paperwork would take weeks to complete. “There’s no changing it.”

“Oh,” Viktor’s face fell a little. “Well, then, we’ll just have to supplement your rations.”

Yuuri was just about to ask how, when Viktor unzipped his black jacket to expose his neck. The second Yuuri realized what Viktor was about to suggest, he threw himself back, sliding on the ice.

“No, no, no, no!” Yuuri waved his hands.

Viktor tilted his head with a sweet smile. “What’s wrong? If it’s Yuuri, then you can drink my blood.”

“Out of the question!” Yuuri put his foot down – somewhat to stop himself from sliding. “It wouldn’t be healthy for you. What you’re suggesting would imply that you offer up half a liter once a month, right? People donating that much are supposed to wait at least six to eight weeks before donating again.”

Viktor’s hands fell from his jacket. “Ah, right.”

When Viktor looked off to tap on his chin in thought, Yuuri skated back.

“Can we try things other than blood?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri considered that. “It’s worth a try.”

The two then decided to let Viktor lead the inquiry. His first suggestion, animal blood, didn’t work out. Animal blood wasn’t easy to acquire, since there wasn’t an actual butcher in Hasetsu, and a quick Google search revealed that most butchers refused to sell blood anyways. Not to mention, the _keiya_ probably wouldn’t look too fondly on Yuuri seeking out more blood, but Yuuri didn’t tell Viktor that.

Nevertheless, Yuuri obediently tried everything else. Standard athletic supplements didn’t work out. Yuuri found the protein bars to be like chewing on wood, and protein shakes – while they supplied a bit of the energized feeling that Yuuri was used to from blood – were equally disgusting. (If Yuuri had ever wondered, in all his years of training, if protein shakes could get any grosser…) Vitamins didn’t do much of anything. And anything green was a drastically failed attempt. Although, Viktor had begged to get a picture of Yuuri’s scrunched up, soured face at a timid taste of a nutrition packed salad.

It turned out that Yuuri was okay with nuts. Salted nuts, to be specific. The taste was just enticing enough that the crunch of the dry texture didn’t throw him off too much. Viktor wasn’t entirely pleased with the discovery that Yuuri still could down sodium like air, since he wondered if that much salt was healthy for any nationality or species, but Yuuri still hoarded trail mixes.

The only downside was that Yuuri had to eat a lot of nuts to even get close to the supplementation that he needed.

In the end, the two just settled on raw and undercooked meats. Yuuri still liked the taste of pork the best, but he couldn’t deny that steak was the best fit in terms of physical and emotional effects.

At the same time, he couldn’t just expect his parents – just barely staying afloat in the dwindling Hasetsu economy – to fit more steak into their budget. Yuuri settled on eating it as a treat.

It felt a little ironic, that after going through all the trouble of trying to find the best diet, Yuuri was just about back to where he started: the meat heavy vampire dishes that Toshiya created. Only now he ate these things for more than just appearance's sake. 

When it came to steak, Yuuri would eat it completely raw. But he did discover that he liked it marinated a bit in soy sauce and dashi, served in small cubes. Toshiya was more than happy to prepare the meat in any way that Yuuri requested. Viktor just sighed as Yuuri packed more unnecessary sodium into what was supposed to be a beneficial diet.

Viktor was willing to rewrite the book once Yuuri's secret was out to him. 

The Katsuki family was a different story. They adjusted to Viktor knowing Yuuri’s secret, by acting as if nothing had changed. The only person Viktor spoke to about Yuuri being a vampire was to Yuuri. It wasn’t like Hiroko or Toshiya knew enough English – or Viktor enough Japanese – for them to have in depth conversations about it anyways. Viktor knew enough Japanese to help request things for Yuuri’s ‘diet,’ and that was the extent of the change between Viktor and the Katsuki family.

That was probably for the better. Even after re-reading the endless paragraphs of Japan’s vampire laws, Yuuri could find nothing on someone ‘accidentally’ finding out about his vampirism. He had no idea if he could be penalized for Viktor figuring it out on his own (or just seeing through Yuuri’s silly excuses right away), but Agent Tanaka would find a way nonetheless.

So, on the surface, Yuuri still went through all his precautions. They did have a public business, after all.

Well, there was one other major change.

Viktor became… an octopus.

There was little else way to describe the euphoric change from Yuuri finally letting Viktor fully into his space. If Viktor wasn’t outright wrapped around Yuuri – which was a rather difficult feat to pull off during practice – then he would look for literally any excuse to touch Yuuri. Instead of calling out corrections on the ice, Viktor would skate over to Yuuri and reposition Yuuri’s arms or posture however needed.

And, surprising himself a little, Yuuri just rolled with it. He had grown accustomed to Viktor’s flirting, and if he was being honest, he had missed it a little. Or a lot. Yuuri now thrived off of Viktor’s touch.

Once there was no fear separating him and Viktor, Yuuri now happily and eagerly fell into Viktor’s embrace time and time again. At the dinner table, there would not be a centimeter of space between them – Viktor eating his meal, Yuuri maybe snacking at some raw steak bits or almonds. The two started to recreate a night routine, one so different from their months of distance. After dinner, Viktor would pull out his laptop and the two would go over skating routines, comparing notes. Then Viktor would insist on the hot springs before bed. In the hot springs, guests had become so used to Viktor’s open affection that after a few nights of it, Viktor trying to bring Yuuri into his lap ceased to draw a curious crowd or judgmental looks.

Yuuri had little idea how Viktor had all the quite traditional locals trained into accepting enthusiastic displays of public affection, but if it meant that Yuuri didn’t have to slip out of Viktor’s arms in a forced act of modesty, then all the better.

It was inevitable that when Viktor asked if Yuuri would sleepover one night, Yuuri agreed. They slept in Viktor’s bed. Yuuri convinced Viktor to at least wear some pants, and tried to get Makkachin to play supervisor. The dog insisted on sleeping on Viktor’s side, forcing Viktor and Yuuri closer together. It wasn’t exactly what Yuuri envisioned, since he expected Makkachin to act as a small barrier to Viktor’s addicting scent and pulse. The weight of the situation, Viktor right up against Yuuri, brought a nice rosy hue to Yuuri’s cheeks.

It didn’t really matter, though, in the end, how hard Yuuri tried to keep some space. When the two woke the next morning, Yuuri was spooned against Viktor’s bare chest, Viktor’s hand having found its way up and inside Yuuri’s shirt. They were right at the edge of the bed, Yuuri depending on Viktor’s grip not to fall off the bed. On Viktor’s other side, Makkachin had sprawled out, paws pushing into Viktor’s back.

Viktor’s scent was just as wrapped around Yuuri in that moment as Viktor’s arms and legs were, and Yuuri just did not want to move from that spot. He rejoiced when Viktor pointed out that practice was in the afternoon, so they could spend the morning cuddling.

Unfortunately, twenty minutes into their shared bliss, Viktor’s stomach growled. The two groaned, retracted themselves from each other, but obediently followed Viktor’s stomach downstairs for some food. Even then, Viktor kept his hand on Yuuri’s back.

* * *

 All the way up to the Cup of China, Yuuri found himself slipping into Viktor’s room at night, and waking up in Viktor’s arms. It was nice. It was so nice to live in this idea that Viktor wanted to stick around for more than just the duration of the skating season. Realistically, Yuuri recognized that skating for too long would be risky, and once he retired, Viktor would want to return to the ice.

Still, Yuuri entertained the daydream that there was something about him that truly stole Viktor’s attention away from the rest of the skating world. It was incredibly motivating. Every day in practice, Yuuri prepared for when he would show the world just how much he was thriving under Viktor’s coaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Note:  
> ' _Orenji oh taberu koto oh oshieru, arigatou gozaimasu_ ' roughly means ‘teach the act of eating oranges, thank you very much’ - Viktor’s learner Japanese version of saying ‘thank you for teaching me the way of the orange’  
> (you have now been given a peek into what I used to sound like in like… level 2 Japanese, oh boy)
> 
> Chapter 7 was originally going to include the Cup of China, but then I realized that altogether, the chapter was getting lengthy. So, it's now in two halves.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... aaaand here's what would have been the second part of chapter 7! 
> 
> I'm so relieved that I didn't alienate everyone by taking so long to update. Thank you especially, to Staronet, for commenting all the time! It's super encouraging! Of course, many thanks to Nutmegdragon for reading all my off-the-wall story ideas.

The plane ride to Beijing was so much easier than the one Yuuri took on his own to leave America. Viktor, with his Champagne tipsy chattering, kept Yuuri distracted from all the sounds around them. When Viktor noticed Yuuri glancing around and fidgeting, face mask still set over his nose and mouth, Viktor brought Yuuri’s head down to his chest. The beat of Viktor’s heart lulled Yuuri to sleep, making it the most peaceful hour on a plane that Yuuri had ever experienced.

Once they landed, Viktor barely let Yuuri recover from the flight before he was insisting on this restaurant he knew. They went through the motions of checking into the hotel room, dropping off their stuff, greeting the other friendly competitors like Chris and Georgi, and then made their way back outside.

“You might like it, let’s go” Viktor said, tugging Yuuri away from some reporters who had recognized them.

The restaurant in question was an Asian fusion place; a common stop for the more curious of tourists. It boasted recipes from all across China, Korea, Japan, and Vietnam. There were the standard noodle dishes like phở, but the biggest draw were the authentic recipes. On the English menu, there were historical anecdotes about each dish.

The clientele of the restaurant was an interesting mixture of locals – just enjoying a nice dinner out – and foreigners daring each other to eat the more ‘exotic’ features of the menu.

Once Yuuri had a look at the menu, he understood why Viktor wanted to bring him here. There were blood based dishes like Korean soondae, duck blood soup, and blood curds, as well as a variety of raw dishes.

It left him with some mixed feelings. On the one hand, Yuuri knew that Viktor hadn't truly given up on finding blood supplements, so this should have been expected. But on the other hand, Yuuri didn't want to eat something and end up sporting red eyes and fangs in the middle of a busy restaurant. 

Viktor ordered some shrimp and a couple spicy dishes for himself, while he encouraged Yuuri to try anything that sounded good. At first, Yuuri considered protesting, but the server was just standing there expectantly, and Yuuri panicked. He ordered the soondae (something he had been wanting to try out of curiosity for years), and some rice noodles with blood curds. He didn’t plan on eating the noodles, but Viktor offered to finish off whatever of the dish that Yuuri couldn’t stomach.

As Viktor started making his way through his first bottle of rice wine, Yuuri sampled his food. He kept his phone out, just to keep checking himself in the camera. Thankfully, neither the smell or taste of his food brought about any changes. Maybe it was because it was cooked? Whatever the reason, Yuuri put his phone down and breathed a sigh of relief. The soondae was great, exactly what Yuuri liked out of a solid meal these days. Well, a not so solid meal, given how soft and rich the meat was. He also dipped it in salt when Viktor wasn’t looking.

Yuuri was starting to sip at his noodle broth when a familiar voice greeted him.

“Yuuri, hey!”

Yuuri looked up and over from the rim of his bowl. He put the bowl down as his face lit up. “Phichit-kun!”

“No way, you’re eating here too?” Phichit waved at him and Viktor. “How’s the food? Google reviews said there’s really good hot pot here.”

Viktor nodded happily. “This is one of my favorite places in Beijing.”

Without complaint from anyone, Phichit slid into their booth. He checked out Yuuri’s dishes – the soondae had already been demolished, and Yuuri was waiting on the server to bring the seconds that he ordered. So, all Phichit saw was the bowl of noodles.

“Huh, I thought you didn’t like carbs now.”

Yuuri plucked out a bit of curd from the bowl with his chopsticks. “Blood curd. Viktor’s eating the noodles. I’m just drinking the soup.”

Almost as if on cue, Viktor dipped into the bowl with his own chopsticks to twirl out some noodles.

“It’s his new diet,” Viktor smiled.

Phichit laughed. “Oh, yeah. _Right_.”

It was then that Yuuri realized that Phichit thought that Viktor didn’t know about Yuuri’s vampirism, while Viktor didn’t know that Phichit knew. Both were trying to protect Yuuri’s secret. It kind of pleased Yuuri. At the same time, they weren’t in Japan, the restaurant was boisterous enough, so there wasn’t any need to keep up fronts.

“It’s alright,” Yuuri sighed with a small smile. “The both of you two know.”

Phichit’s mouth popped in surprise. He turned on Viktor. “ _Really_? How did you find out?”

“I figured it out.” Viktor shrugged, not explaining the reason behind his vampire knowledge, for obvious reasons. “You?”

“Yuuri and I were attacked by the same vampires that turned him.” Phichit gestured to the fading scar on his neck. “We’re bite buddies!”

Yuuri let out a little chuckle. Leave it up to Phichit to start joking about something so horrific. Bite buddies, huh? Yuuri would have to remember that one.

But Viktor wasn’t amused. He looked between Yuuri and Phichit.

“You didn’t tell me that you were attacked, Yuuri.”

“Oh, well, yeah…” Yuuri fidgeted with his chopsticks. “It was… implied?”

Viktor continued to stare at him.

Yuuri checked over at Phichit, who was suddenly busying himself with looking over the drink menu. This wasn’t a subject that they needed to draw out – especially for Phichit’s sake.

“I’ll tell you some other time.” Yuuri told Viktor quietly. He then looked up to his friend. “Anyways, Phichit, what were you planning on ordering?”

The rest of dinner was sufficiently upbeat from there. Especially when Viktor finished off his bottle of rice wine and ordered a second. For some reason, drunk Viktor kept insisting that it would be more fun if Yuuri drank some alcohol too, and it felt like each time Yuuri turned down a cup, Viktor would lose another article of clothing.

It started out with simple things – just his jacket or his watch. Next thing Yuuri knew, Viktor was shirtless in the middle of a foreign restaurant and Yuuri was desperately trying to keep out of Phichit’s pictures.

“Alright,” Yuuri said, as Viktor nuzzled against him and babbled about how Yuuri would make a cute bat, “We should probably get back to the hotel.”

Phichit had finished off his meal by that point, and was more or less entertaining himself with a mixture of Instagram and Viktor’s shenanigans. He agreed.

Viktor insisted on paying for everyone, but the sober skaters had to carry out the actual transaction with Viktor’s card. Then Yuuri went through the process of getting Viktor dressed again – while Phichit provided some semblance of moral support.

On the walk back to the hotel, Yuuri kept an arm around Viktor to keep him steady, while keeping up a conversation with Phichit. Occasionally Viktor would make a surprisingly coherent comment, but for the most part, he was a stumbling dead weight.

It was late, dark, but Phichit and Yuuri were more than used to city life. The area they were walking in was clearly designed for tourists, since it was well-lit and easy to navigate. Besides, Yuuri figured he could do worse to any standard mugger than the mugger could do to them.

Yuuri wasn’t really thinking about vampires, because as they passed through another clot in the crowd, Yuuri figured that it was too public for any vampire to consider making a scene.

Continuing optimistically, Yuuri and Phichit walked and chatted about stuff they saw in store windows. They were interrupted by a whistle from an alley up ahead.

At first, the two thought it was a standard cat call, and made to keep walking.

But then the whistler stepped out from the shadows, half his face illuminated in the city light. A neon sign reflected off of the man’s red irises. For how frozen and gray he was, it could have been a statue staring at them. A red-eyed statue, lips now curling like a proud predator.

Out of complete instinct, Yuuri shoved Viktor and Phichit behind himself.

“You got him drunk for us,” the vampire drawled in heavily accented English. It was difficult to understand him. “What a treat. Makes drinking easier, ya’know?”

Viktor’s arm around Yuuri’s waist gripped tighter, almost pulling Yuuri into his chest. Both his and Phichit’s heartbeats picked up wildly.

Even though Yuuri’s entire frame trembled – and he could feel the same fear rolling off of Phichit – he stood as tall as he could. Realistically, he had little idea what he would do if it turned to a fight. Immortal or not, Yuuri had no idea how to defend himself.

“They’re not for you.” Yuuri’s voice cracked.

The vampire’s smirk turned to a sour milk frown. “ _Hùndàn, cào nǐ mā_! Look at you, so healthy, do you really need that much for yourself?”

The vampire reached out a marble tinged claw of a hand. Yuuri took a step back right away, taking Viktor and Phichit back as well. He now finally understood what Viktor meant about stilted movements. It was like a scene out of an exorcist movie.

(Sharp images of two inhuman creatures, ready to dig their fangs into Yuuri’s neck, flashed through his mind.)

The monstrous true form of a vampire.

“See? Look at me! You know when I last had a good meal?”

Yuuri swallowed, trying to find the words to rebuff the oncoming fight. Or trying to find his legs. He had to get out of here, if his legs would just _move_.

It was too similar of a scene. All too familiar.

“So… share!” The vampire lunged. Yuuri pushed Viktor and Phichit back, and braced himself for the attack.

The attack that never came.

The vampire froze in its grab for a meal midway, and then whipped around to look down the alley.

“Who the fu – ” it snapped before screaming out. Steam billowed from the vampire’s head and skin. It curled back, cursing and crying in tangible agony. Any bit of exposed skin that the light hit was a striking red, bubbled in texture, like a nasty burn.

“Stay away from my skaters.”

Celestino stepped out from the darkness of the alley, an empty glass bottle in his hand.

Holy water, Yuuri realized.

“You alright?” Celestino asked, checking over Yuuri, Phichit, and Viktor.

Yuuri nodded absently, more of an automatic reaction to Celestino’s question than expressing the truth of how he felt. As the vampire continued to curse and scream, Phichit’s hand found Yuuri’s shoulder, for support. Still behind Yuuri, Viktor heaved and gagged.

But they didn’t have a moment longer to recuperate, because right before them, the angry red burns were already disappearing from the vampire’s skin.

“You three need to get out of here!” Celestino ordered, as the vampire rounded on its assailant.

“C-celestino!” Phichit called out, his feet stuck to the ground. Yuuri knew just as well as his friend did that they weren’t going to run off on their coach like that.

“You fucking… _qù sǐ_!” The vampire screamed, throwing out a claw.

There was a sharp pop.

And then the vampire was crashing to the wall of the alley. It slid to the ground.

A bullet hole to its head.

Yuuri felt like throwing up. Or passing out. This was too much.

Another person joined them, this time an older Chinese man in a black suit, wearing a wooden bead necklace. At the end of the necklace was a Taoist coin token. In the man’s hand was a pistol, fitted with a silencer. He lowered it to his side but didn’t put it back to safety.

At first, he said something in Chinese to Yuuri, but then corrected himself. He said his piece in somewhat limited Japanese, and then in English for the sake of everyone else there.

“It won’t stay down forever.” The man had said, pulling a paper token from inside his suit jacket. He stuck the token to the vampire’s head. “You all leave. I’ll take care of this.”

Celestino didn’t waste any time in joining the younger members of the party, gesturing for them all to get going.

Yuuri couldn’t quite find his feet, or figure out how to move them. Phichit’s grip on his shoulder, which was starting to become painful, was his only grasp on reality at the moment.

Celestino had to nudge Yuuri and Phichit to start moving. Once they took their first couple steps, the rest of the way back to the hotel became automatic. Viktor trailed after Yuuri, no longer leaning on anyone, but still swaying. Behind the three of them, Celestino acted as a lookout.  

It was an absolute shock, with all the people they passed on the way back to the hotel, that no one had seemed to witness what happened in that alley. Everyone around them, tourist or local, were completely ignorant of the dark things that hid in the shadows around them.

Would that vampire have even bothered the skaters if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuuri was a vampire? Did Yuuri bring this on Viktor and Phichit?

He did, didn’t he? The vampire was curious as to why another of its kind was leading around two humans, and decided to investigate.

And now…

Yuuri glanced back to check on his companions. Phichit was clammy, his eyes unfocused, just taking the same automatic steps forward as Yuuri. Viktor was staring straight ahead, face undeniably pale. But when Viktor caught Yuuri looking, he sped up so that he could take Yuuri’s hand.

Viktor’s hand was cold as ice.

Things weren’t supposed to happen like this. If it weren’t for Yuuri, then Viktor and Phichit wouldn’t have to relive this trauma. If Yuuri had just _died_ back in America like he _should have_ , then –

“Stop it.”

Viktor’s voice was a sharp command through Yuuri’s swirling dark thoughts. With the command, Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand.

“I know what you’re thinking. This wasn’t your fault.”

“But – ”

“Not your fault.”

Maybe Viktor knew it would happen no matter what he said, but Yuuri was still just a ball of sensitive nerves when they got back to the hotel. All he could do to distract himself was hold his hands to his chest, and fidget with his fingers. Still, both Viktor and Yuuri offered for Phichit to stay with them a bit, if he needed the company. Phichit took the opportunity without a moment’s hesitation. He was never one for being left alone with less than pleasant thoughts.

Celestino let them go back to the room Viktor and Yuuri had booked together, with just a reminder towards Phichit about curfew.

Noticing that Viktor was still swaying a bit, Yuuri fetched him a glass of water. It helped as further distraction from his thoughts. Viktor thanked him and drank the water in almost one gulp. Then with little coordination, they sat in a somewhat circle. Viktor and Yuuri sat on the bed, while Phichit pulled out the desk chair to sit in front of them. There passed some time where the three just sat in silence.

Viktor kept glancing over at Yuuri, as Yuuri continued to run over the event over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what he could have done differently.

Phichit let out a long breath that he must have been holding in since the alley.

“Alright, I think we should talk this out.” He suggested. “That’s what helped me in that support group.”

Yuuri looked up from tapping his fingers together to give Phichit a wary look.

“I know you don’t _like_ talking.” Phichit rolled his eyes. “So, I’ll go first. That was… okay, yeah, that was unexpected. And really freaky. But, uh, like Viktor was telling you earlier, Yuuri, this wasn’t your fault. If anything, I felt a little safer with you there.”

Yuuri blinked in surprise.

“I agree.” Viktor nodded. “I was more worried for your safety, Yuuri, than my own.”

“I… what? Really?” Yuuri sat dumbfounded.

“Yeah! That vamp was so pissed at you! But you just faced it down and it was the coolest thing.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Yuuri’s brows pinched together. Was he remembering things differently than Phichit? “Celestino and that Chinese hunter protected us. Not me.”

“What? Didn’t do anything? Geez…” Phichit turned to Viktor. “By the way, if it wasn’t for Yuuri, I don’t think I would have survived that attack back in America.”

“I believe you.” Viktor wrapped his arm back around Yuuri.

It was so shocking. That after such a terrifying reminder of what vampires could be, what they could do, Viktor was still willing to be this close to Yuuri. How Viktor could possibly stand to even be in the same room as Yuuri right now was beyond him.

“I’ve told him before that it’s senseless to generalize vampires. He’s not the first ‘good’ vampire I’ve met, and certainly not the last.” Viktor said to Phichit.

“Yeah, our counselor back in America, with the Night Patrollers, she said the same thing.” Phichit then poked Yuuri on the knee. “But _this guy_ didn’t seem to receive the message.”

Yuuri shrugged, for lack of better response.

“Still,” Phichit sat back in his chair. “What a night! Who knew, for one, that _the_ Viktor Nikiforov knows about vampire stuff? Is this a Russian thing?”

Viktor let out a small laugh, surprising himself and everyone there that the atmosphere had lightened up already. “No, it’s not. My old coach, Yakov, knows nothing about vampires, and I’m sure he’d like to keep it that way.”

“Alright.” Phichit chuckled, rolling with their recovery. “It just seems like it’d be a Russian thing, you know?”

“Does it disappoint you that we’re not all vampire hunters?”

“Maybe a little, if I’m being honest. But it’s probably better for Yuuri that you’re not.” Phichit winked at Yuuri, who fumbled with a reply before turning pink. Viktor laughed again, this time a bit more freely.

Even Yuuri couldn’t help but to feel a little better. Phichit never failed to brighten up a room. And with Viktor still safely by Yuuri’s side, the hotel room had undeniably become a warm, safe place.

“What just happened makes the short program tomorrow feel like nothing in comparison.” Yuuri spoke up.

“Yeah!” Phichit grinned. “I feel invincible right now!”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Viktor said. “It wouldn’t have been any good if this encounter messed up either of your skating routines. I look forward to your skating. Yuuri tells me that you’re talented at capturing people’s attention.”

“Wow...” Phichit said with pink tinged cheeks, a little star struck. "That means a lot, thank you!"

Viktor nodded.

Then to Yuuri, Phichit asked, “So, you feeling better now?”

“A bit, yeah.” Yuuri answered, truthfully.

“Great,” Phichit bounced up from the chair. “I really don’t mean to cut things off, but I promised Leo and Guang Hong that I’d catch up with them tonight.”

“No problem.” Yuuri reassured, leaning a bit into Viktor. If anything, he was looking forward to spending some time alone with Viktor, after being in airport, sport, and city crowds all day.

Phichit waved to them as he walked out of the room, leaving Yuuri and Viktor to get ready for bed.

As if nothing potentially traumatic had happened that night, Viktor gathered Yuuri in his arms and they slept in one of the beds. Yuuri was still dumbfounded by Viktor's unwavering trust in him. He couldn't imagine what was running through Viktor's head, to hold a vampire in his arms. Before falling asleep, Viktor placed a feather light kiss on the back of Yuuri’s head. It was so quick that Yuuri was certain he imagined it.

Still, just like every night, Yuuri melted into Viktor’s scent and the relaxing thump of his heart.

* * *

 

Viktor and Phichit’s overwhelming care and support carried Yuuri onto the next morning. Just like Phichit had said, Yuuri was feeling invincible now.

Yuuri had already been getting drunk on Viktor’s attention and approval. He still didn't quite understand it; to know now that Viktor could come face to face with a terrifying vampire, and still want to orbit Yuuri at all times. It was, nevertheless, a great boost in confidence. When others started to accuse Yuuri of stealing Viktor away from the skating world - whether playfully as Chris did, or scathingly, as some of Viktor's fans did - Yuuri took it as a challenge. Yuuri wanted to show off to the whole world exactly why Viktor had dropped everything to coach some nobody from Japan.

Yuuri skated a perfect program, with positive GOE on all his jumps, and landed himself in first place for the short programs.

At first, Yuuri rode that victory like a high.

He had Viktor’s July firefly smile all to himself, and Phichit going on about how he’d definitely best Yuuri in the free programs. Random people wanted to shake Yuuri’s hand and tell him how great of a performance it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he deserved this much positive attention.

And then he received a text from Yuuko.

In text, she had jumped to be the first to congratulate him. She was far from the first, as Minako had tracked Yuuri down right after the competition in order to give him a congratulatory hug. Minako and Viktor were still standing with Yuuri as he looked over the picture accompanying the text.

It was a selfie including both the Nishigori and Katsuki family, with a number of Yu-Topia regulars waving in the background. A public viewing! Again?!

Yuuko also requested a victory selfie with Yuuri, Viktor, and Minako.

Er, Yuuri thought, when was the last time he applied his face cream? Even though his vampire face cream was supposed to be sport proof, he still wanted to make sure that it was sufficiently covering him. He switched to the camera on his phone, hoping to check real quick if he needed to re-apply. There was a smudge on his forehead where some of the grayness showed, from where he kept wiping his face out of habit. The gray wasn’t stark, but it was noticeable if anyone really looked.

The cream was in his bag in the locker room. Yuuri was just about to excuse himself to go fetch his bag, when a trio of journalists accosted him.

One of them had a camera.

Yuuri did his best to turn his head so that the side with the smudge of gray wouldn’t be caught on camera. He tried to give short answers, so to get the interview over with, but when he looked up, there were more people crowded around.

All the scents and heartbeats of all these excited people drowned Yuuri. He didn’t have his face mask, or his cream, or anything to keep him safe from discovery.

This was nothing like the September championship. There were only so many people in that rink. Right now, it felt like fans and journalists were multiplying out of nowhere. Yuuri knew it would get like this, and that was why he had to practice self-restraint early on, but this was just too much!

Panic bubbled up, temptation grabbed at him, and Yuuri found himself frozen to the spot in conflict.

There was an arm around him. He tried to jerk back, but then he noticed that it was Viktor.

“Yuuri and I would like to thank everyone for their support, but my skater needs to go back to stretching.” Viktor called out to everyone, before leading Yuuri away from the crowd.

Instead of bringing Yuuri someplace he could stretch or rest, Viktor took Yuuri back to the locker rooms. He stood watch while Yuuri reapplied the face cream. Yuuri didn’t want to ask how Viktor knew that the cream was rubbing off.

If Viktor had seen Yuuri checking on his phone, then that meant other people could have noticed. Or maybe it was just becoming obvious.

A picture flashed through Yuuri’s memory. That vampire. Burning with holy water and shot to the ground.

If Yuuri wasn’t careful, that could be _him_.

And he had been feeling so confident earlier. Just goes to show how reckless he became. 

“We don’t have to go back out there,” Viktor offered. “If it’s getting to be too much.”

“Okay.” Yuuri said, his voice dead.

They decided to head back to the hotel room, and spend the rest of the day there. Viktor ordered all his food to the room.

As comforting as Viktor’s presence was, Yuuri was still keyed up by bedtime. Viktor slept soundly next to him, but all Yuuri could do was stare at the ceiling. Memories he didn’t want kept knocking at his head. Agent Nakamura’s warning. That vampire in the alley. All that attention he got after placing first. His face cream smudging.

Part of him knew these crowds would only get bigger and bigger, but Yuuri just didn’t take into account the amount of attention he’d receive for doing well.

The more attention on him, the higher the risk of something going wrong.

The closer he got to winning the GPF, the more likely everything could fall to ruin. 

He didn’t sleep at all that night.

* * *

 

There was no hiding his insomniatic worrying from Viktor the next morning at breakfast. Just when Yuuri had started to accept the bags under his eyes as a permanent feature – he had even bought some concealer for the fact – he had no idea just how deep the bags could look. His hair was a mess, sticking up every which direction, from rolling his head around on the pillow.

(So much for all those stories about vampires being unnaturally beautiful.)

Viktor stared at Yuuri as Yuuri pushed around his omelet. It was just plain eggs, something that Yuuri was normally able to stomach, but he had barely taken a bite.

“Yuuri,” Viktor started, putting his coffee down. His coach leaned in towards Yuuri across the table, and then rested his head on the back of his hand. To anyone else in the room, it would look like a natural position, but Yuuri’s tired eyes locked on the way that Viktor’s fingers pulled back the collar of his own shirt. “Do you want something other than eggs?”

Yuuri nearly dropped his chopsticks. Was he just imagining things or was Viktor offering his blood, right here and now?

Sure, right now they were at a competition, so Yuuri didn’t have any access to his rations. The offer, if it was truly an offer, was tempting.

It was a little too tempting.

But Yuuri looked around them at the filled breakfast room and shook his head. He added a half-hearted gesture to all the people, in the hope that Viktor would understand it wasn’t the time or place.

(Because a bite mark on his coach was the last thing Yuuri needed when he was trying to hide his identity.)

Viktor sat back up and went back to sipping on his coffee. But he didn’t let up.

Later, Viktor dragged a restless Yuuri back to their hotel room, insisting that Yuuri should try napping to catch up on sleep.

“If you need a something to help you go to sleep…” Viktor said, tilting his head so that his neck was bared. Yuuri shook his head more violently then, before throwing the blanket over himself.

The nap didn’t work. Yuuri still wanted to go about his usual pre-competition routine. Even if he was running on fumes, the least he could do was stretch so to avoid a stiff performance. With Yuuri’s slot in the free skate creeping up on him, he tried to focus on anything other than the sound and smell of literally _every human being in that building_.

At one point, Viktor handed Yuuri his water bottle – which was filled with salt water, something that Yuuri didn’t need, but surprisingly didn’t mind drinking in order to keep up appearances as a hydrated athlete. Yuuri’s hands were trembling so much that he couldn’t quite flip the top to get it open. Viktor took the bottle, without asking, and opened it for Yuuri.

“You know,” Viktor said, handing the bottle back. “It might help if you had something else…”

“No,” Yuuri took a sip. “No, no.”

At that point, Yuuri lost focus on what was going on around him. His mind hadn’t stopped racing since the night before, but now the tires screeched and turned onto to a different road. Why was Viktor insisting so much on Yuuri drinking his blood?

Yuuri took a few more sips of salt water, glancing over at Viktor.

It clicked.

Viktor had once told Yuuri that when he was thirsty, it affected the appearance of his skating, and left Yuuri distracted.

Viktor thought that feeding would help Yuuri in his routine.

Was Viktor… doubting Yuuri?

God, that was it, wasn’t it? Viktor doubted that Yuuri could pull this off without the help of feeding. Even Yuuri’s own coach thought that he would crash and burn if he didn’t fall back on his vampire needs.

With a little more force than necessary, Yuuri shoved the water bottle back at Viktor.

“I’m going to find a quieter space to stretch.” Yuuri grumbled. He went to his training bag to grab his mat, and headed for the least crowded space he could find.

There were just so many people. Anytime Yuuri checked down a hallway, there was at least someone there, and that someone would notice and start to approach him.

He then heard Viktor walk up from behind him, before Viktor spoke.

“Let’s try the parking garage.”

Yuuri tossed a half-hearted glare over his shoulder. “I can find a place to stretch on my own.”

Absently, Yuuri realized that Viktor would be confused by Yuuri’s sudden sour attitude. But whatever. Serves Viktor right. It’s not like Viktor never subjected Yuuri to random, unexplained mood swings.

That and choosing anger as a reaction to Viktor’s doubt gave Yuuri some power. If he fell victim to the sadder thoughts, then he’d never be able to skate a clean program. Tears were already threatening to gather in his eyes.

Still, Yuuri headed towards the parking garage, trying to ignore Viktor’s shadowing company.

It was a good place to get away. Yuuri was just about to put his earbuds back in when Viktor stopped him.

“What?” Yuuri demanded, holding onto to that anger with all his might.

Viktor balked at Yuuri’s outburst.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Viktor retorted, voice level, but heart speeding up. “I’m trying to help you.”

“By treating me like some clay animation monster? Thanks.” His chin wobbled.

Viktor’s jaw dropped. It probably didn’t help that Yuuri was worrying his own jaw, just trying not to start crying.

“Look,” Viktor recovered and took a step forward. “It’s not because your physical capabilities aren’t good enough. Feeding just relaxes you more and–”

“I know!” Yuuri snapped. His voice echoed across the parking garage. Prickly tears now filled his eyes. “I know and it’s not any better!”

Speechless, Viktor froze.

“I can’t fail right now! I can’t fail as a competitor or as a human!” Yuuri’s hands balled into fists, his tears now streaming. Stupid, stupid Viktor. “Don’t you get it? I don’t need you reminding me at every opportunity what I am.”

“Shit,” Viktor stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to impose, I just… what do I do now?”

“You don’t need to do anything! Just have more faith than I do that I can do this!”

It wasn’t like Yuuri had been handling his vampirism for months before Viktor even showed up in Hasetsu. He pretty much had it all balanced with his figure skating before Viktor ‘stumbled’ on him, and then started sharing advice.

Some of that advice was great, and indispensable. But constantly giving it, without asking if Yuuri wanted it or not, was borderline patronizing.

Just having Viktor’s presence and faith was good enough. More than enough.

Yuuri still had no idea what it was about him or his skating that kept someone with a past like Viktor’s by Yuuri’s side.

Nonetheless, Yuuri had to prove to Viktor that he could handle this.

He was still a little mad, as the two gathered their bearings, and made their way back to the stadium. Really, at what point was Viktor going to get with the program? Yuuri’s vampirism wasn’t a _game_. Viktor didn’t stand to face any consequences if this went south. At most, he could claim status as victim, and then go right back to skating.

Stubbornness and pride welled up in Yuuri as he stepped onto the ice. This would be the second time he would skate to 'Yuri on Ice' feeling a barrage of emotions. But he had to make a point. Viktor didn’t need to mother him. Viktor shouldn’t doubt him.

As Yuuri slipped into the second half of the program, he plotted a brilliant idea. It felt almost natural to launch into a quad flip. Exhausted, Yuuri couldn’t land right at the end of the four rotations, and he fell to the ice. But this wasn’t time to make a show of his weaknesses. He got right back up and concluded the program.

There! That would show Viktor!

That would show the whole world that Yuuri was worth Viktor’s time. That Yuuri deserved Viktor as his coach.

Yuuri had just proved to everyone, whether or not that they knew he was a vampire, that Viktor belonged to him.

But in that moment, all Yuuri could focus on was his coach, standing still at rink side. The presence of the roaring crowd was an afterthought.

The two raced to each other. Viktor cradled Yuuri’s head as they crashed to the ice in a kiss.

* * *

Getting through the medal ceremony, photo ops, and interviews was torturous.

But, for once, it wasn’t because Yuuri was overwhelmed by the crowd.

It was because he was growing impatient. That kiss had broken the dam. Even though Viktor kept an arm around Yuuri the entire time following the free programs, the two just couldn’t get close enough with everyone there.

They navigated the barrage of questions about ‘What does this mean for your relationship as coach and student?’ and ‘How long have the two of you been involved?’ They even took their time with their friends and competitors, especially Phichit’s happy ‘This is the best day of my life!’ as he wore his golden medal and snapped pictures of Viktor and Yuuri leaning into each other.

In the end, it was Chris who expertly sensed the tension, and lead the distraction. Once everyone were gawking over Chris picking a journalist to flirt with, Viktor helped Yuuri retreat from the crowd. Their last sight of Chris – before rushing into the elevator – was their friend’s supportive wink.

They raced to their room, giggling as they shut the door behind them.

Yuuri could sing! That little hopeful part of him was right! Viktor did want him!

It didn’t matter that Yuuri was a vampire. It didn’t matter that for years, the two of them were world’s apart.

Standing alone in front of his long time idol, Yuuri was washed over in awe, filled with reckless abandon.

They surged forward, meeting with their lips. Hands raced to find hold of the other – each other’s hair, neck, shoulders, arms… anyplace that they could grab to pull closer.

Closer just wasn’t close enough.

Viktor shed his trench coat and Yuuri his tracksuit. He still wore his skating costume, so he paused at taking off article of clothing so forcefully. A little frustrated and not knowing exactly how to get what he wanted, Yuuri pushed Viktor until the back of Viktor’s legs hit the bed.

They both lost balance and tumbled onto the bed. Yuuri yelped, throwing his arms out so that he wouldn't crash land on Viktor.

Not even a second after they adjusted to their new position, Viktor pulled Yuuri down to continue the kiss. Their embrace filled Yuuri with an exhilarating warmth. It was more so an afterthought that he had little experience with kissing. 

Under him, Viktor still led the kiss easily. When Yuuri ran his hand through Viktor's hair, he was rewarded with a happy hum. He just had to see Viktor's expression, to know if Viktor was just as far gone as Yuuri felt. Yuuri broke the kiss to look. 

Laying beneath Yuuri, his pupils blown wide and nose pink, Viktor looked absolutely divine. His eyes sparkled with so much color, that Yuuri felt like his heart would start beating again just to beat out of his chest. Even more so, Yuuri couldn’t ignore the blood driven blush spreading across Viktor’s face, or how Viktor’s heart kept skipping beats. It was like Viktor had become every last temptation that could ruin Yuuri.

(As if Viktor hadn’t already been Yuuri’s beautiful downfall from the start.)

Heat bloomed in Yuuri’s face as it finally sunk in how they were positioned.

Viktor gave Yuuri another light, sweet kiss.

“So, my silver medalist, what would you like as a reward? Katsudon just doesn’t seem enough for how you’ve surprised me.”

He was right. Even though vampire katsudon was still pretty good, it just wasn’t as tempting of a treat these days. But… there was something that had been gravitating around Yuuri for so long now…

Yuuri lifted up a bit, turning his still scarlet face to the side.

“Can I…” he started, not certain if he could even vocalize what he wanted. This was crazy. Wasn’t he just arguing with Viktor earlier over this?

But… this was different, right? This wasn’t about making Yuuri a better skater. This wasn’t about supplementing his diet. This was a treat. Viktor was offering. Yuuri wanted it. Plain and simple.  

Always meeting Yuuri halfway, Viktor pulled the collar of his shirt down and bared his neck. 

“You don’t need that much, since you’ve fed recently, right? So, this is okay.”

Yuuri swallowed.

“You’re… sure?” He asked, doublechecking, as if Viktor hadn’t been throwing himself at Yuuri all day. Because it was one thing for Viktor to offer, it was another thing entirely for Viktor to be absolutely okay with this.

Okay with Yuuri drinking his blood.

Ah, even just thinking about it drove Yuuri a little wild. Still beneath Yuuri, with his pretty bared neck and enticing pulse filling Yuuri’s ears, Viktor chuckled.

“Yes, I’m sure. As much as I can tell that you want it, are you sure?”

“As much as you can…” Yuuri repeated. Was this another one of Viktor’s observations? To tell if Yuuri was thirsty. “How can you tell?”

Viktor screwed his mouth shut in a barely contained smile.

“What?” Yuuri demanded.

“Well…” Viktor lifted one hand to caress Yuuri’s face.

Hesitantly, Yuuri flicked out his tongue to feel his front teeth. His hand flew to his mouth when he felt fangs.

His appearance had changed!? But he wasn’t feeding just yet! Nor had he been exposed to blood!

Yuuri groaned and hid his face in both hands. “I’m sorry!”

Viktor laughed again. “It’s alright. I’m flattered you think of my blood so highly.”

Refusing to uncover his face, Yuuri shook his head, still groaning in distress.

Viktor brought both hands up, and a little forcefully, pulled Yuuri’s hands away from his face. Exposed, Yuuri shut his eyes. He didn’t want to unsettle Viktor with the unnatural red.

“Yuuri, look at me.” Viktor commanded in a soft voice.

Much as he wanted to run and hide, Yuuri peeked his eyes open.

“I want to know everything about you." Viktor said, in absolute sincerity. "This is a part of you now, so please don’t hide it from me.”

Yuuri bit his lip.

“Besides," Viktor continued, his smile turning cat-like, "you’re not good at being scary.”

“Hey,” Yuuri pouted. “I could be scary if I tried.”

“Nope,” Viktor sang. “Not scary at all!”

Yuuri glared as his coach, completely underestimating him again, laughed. Had Yuuri taught him nothing?

Without a second thought, Yuuri pinned Viktor’s wrists to the bed. He buried his face into Viktor’s neck, just barely pressing his fangs against Viktor’s skin. Breathing in Viktor’s unforgettable, inviting scent, Yuuri couldn't help but to let out a soft growl.

Viktor’s laugh caught in his throat. 

Oh, how that made Yuuri feel powerful.

“Is this how you want me?” Viktor then asked, breathless.

It took a couple seconds for his sudden action to catch up with Yuuri. He was a little lightheaded now, garnering up every ounce of self-control to not bite down.

That would make a mess of the sheets, was Yuuri’s first thought. And he was still wearing his free skate costume.

He flew up into a sitting position.

“Ah, no, let’s try some other way!”

After a moment needed to catch his breath, Viktor agreed.

Once Viktor shed his nice suit top – opting to go shirtless – and Yuuri had changed into some of his old exercise clothes, the two sat down side by side on the bed. By that point, Yuuri had seen in a mirror on the wall that his appearance had gone back to normal. Still, anticipation thrummed under his skin.

Yuuri reached for Viktor and just barely caressed his skin as he pulled Viktor closer. Viktor’s heartbeat sped up a moment, pounding like a drum set in Yuuri’s ear. Without checking Viktor’s expression or daring to look him again in the eyes, Yuuri drew near to Viktor’s throat. The two of them skipped breaths.

Now that he was surrounded by Viktor’s scent again, now that he had Viktor’s pulse close to his fingers, Yuuri could tell that his physiology was changing again. His canines lengthened, readying for the bite.

Absentmindedly, his tongue flaked over his fangs. Sharp.

How much would this hurt? He wondered. An unbidden flashback came to forefront of Yuuri’s thoughts. That night… when he was attacked… Yuuri winced unconsciously. He could never bring himself to put Viktor in that much pain.

“Er, this might hurt,” he said. “Are you absolutely–”

“Yes.” Viktor placed a hand on Yuuri’s back. It was then that Yuuri noticed that Viktor was resolute. He didn’t shake, and his heart had settled into a steady, excited pace. “I trust you.”

Yuuri nodded. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll try to…”

He thought about it a moment, and then decided on a way that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t have to hurt so much.

When Yuuri picked the place he would drink from – the fleshy place where the left of Viktor’s neck met his back – Viktor tilted his head and leaned easily into Yuuri’s intentions.

At first, just to see... just to taste… Yuuri kissed the spot. Viktor hummed. So Yuuri kissed along that bit of skin again. He wasn’t sure if Viktor was humming in allowance or approval, but it made Yuuri feel bolder. He tucked his hand behind Viktor’s neck, pulled Viktor in tight, and started to suck.

Yuuri was thinking, in that moment, that maybe if he made a bruise, then he wouldn’t have to bite down so hard to get to the blood. He wasn’t quite fully aware that he was giving Viktor a different impression. And when the scent and taste of Viktor’s skin – and the movement of his blood as Yuuri sucked – started to drive Yuuri a little crazy, started to get him a little out of it, he didn’t notice the way Viktor started to breathe out little moans.

Yuuri pulled back with a little pop, and studied the mark he left. The color filled in and it was in such a size and space that Viktor could probably hide it easily, but Yuuri would have a much easier time drinking.

“Go ahead,” Viktor said, his voice barely a whisper.

Taking his final permission as encouragement, Yuuri leaned back into Viktor’s skin and, as gently as he could possibly keep all of his self-control together, bit down.

Viktor gasped, the hand resting on Yuuri’s back gripping Yuuri’s t-shirt.

But Yuuri was barely paying attention to that.

Because, fuck, the taste was indescribable.

It was warm. It was so perfectly the right temperature. And if Yuuri thought he had slowly been growing addicted to the way Viktor smelled, well, that all paled in comparison to having the absolute privilege and luxury to taste Viktor’s blood.

He would never, ever get this taste out of his mind. It was almost _sweet_ , so much like the flowery scent that Viktor carried with him everywhere he went.

Having already fed recently, Yuuri wasn’t too thirsty. He didn’t need that much. This was just for a taste. And with the blood sharpening his senses, clearing his mind it felt like, he was more aware of how much he was drinking than he thought he would be. In that moment, with his teeth sunk into a human being, he didn’t feel like an animal.

Yuuri never felt so alive before.

Coming back down to reality, the sound of Viktor’s breathing and heartbeat filled his ears. His shirt pulled at his skin to where Viktor had it bunched in his fist. Viktor was there. Viktor was all around him.

And Viktor was swaying.

That… wasn’t good.

Yuuri, already reaching his fill, let go.

Viktor’s expression was growing dazed.

“Oh! Viktor! Shit!” Yuuri jumped up and dove to fill a glass of water. He shoved it at Viktor and practically kowtowed before his coach. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, are you alright? Here, drink the water… oh, shit.”

Viktor accepted the water and began to sip at it. The open wound on his neck grabbed Yuuri’s attention. He watched it pearl up with blood, but before it could drip and stain the hotel bed, Yuuri had grabbed the box of tissues on the desk and he was patting the blood away.

“Viktor? Are you alright?”

That’s when Viktor started to chuckle.

At first, Yuuri’s panic only ballooned, thinking he had gone and drunk Viktor into delusion.

But Viktor reassured Yuuri with locking eyes with him, and patting Yuuri on the shoulder. He took another drink of water.

“I’m fine, Yuuri.” Viktor’s hand trailed up to caress Yuuri’s check. “I promise I’m fine. I just had, ah, an unexpected reaction to that…”

Yuuri’s brows furrowed. He paused in his rudimentary first aid.

Viktor chuckled again. “It’s fine. I just might need a cold shower.”

Yuuri blinked. And then he glanced down.

Oh.

Heat bloomed throughout Yuuri’s face and up to the tips of his ears.

“Don’t worry too much about it.” Viktor looked up and checked Yuuri’s reaction. He turned serious, and guided Yuuri to look at him in the eyes. “Yuuri, I’m not going to try to seduce you. Not right now.”

Yuuri let out a little meep of a sound.

Viktor’s face broke out again into his signature smile. He tilted his head into an innocent expression. “Besides, I didn’t bring any condoms or lube with me. We couldn’t get very far anyways.”

Yuuri felt like he was dying.

“I’m sorry.” He squeaked out again.

Mercifully, Yuuri was saved by the bell. Or, cell phone, to be more exact. From Yuuri’s tracksuit – which still sat discarded on the floor – his phone lit up with an incoming call.

Viktor took the tissue from Yuuri so that he could hold it in place, and Yuuri retracted himself from the situation so that he could answer his phone.

“Oh, hey!” Phichit’s voice came through. “I thought this was gonna go to voicemail, since Chris was talking about how you and Viktor needed some alone time…”

A weak “aahhh” was Yuuri’s only response.

“Anyways, I’d hate to be interrupting anything,”

“You’re not.”

“But Ciao Ciao wanted to let you guys know that he included you and Viktor in dinner reservation. Seven thirty, at the hotel restaurant, okay? Chris is gonna be there too. We’re celebrating our medals!”

“Sounds good, I think we can make that.” Yuuri said.

“Great! Round two of your celebration, right?”

“What?” Yuuri spluttered out, but Phichit went on like Yuuri wasn’t currently having a crisis.

“Anyways, have fun with Viktor! Be safe! Wear a condom!”

“No, we’re not–”

Phichit hung up.

“Hm, what was that about?” Viktor asked, innocently. His cup of water was now empty. Color had returned to his cheeks.

“Er, dinner reservations for tonight.” Yuuri answered, going back over to Viktor to check the wound. It was still bleeding, but not heavily. “You up for going?”

Slowly, Viktor stood up. When he didn’t sway, or feel any lightheadedness, he nodded.

His, er, other problem still required attention. For that, Viktor opted to take that cold shower. By the time he came out, Yuuri’s face was perfectly human again and he was wearing decent clothes. Viktor had put a bandage on the wound. The bandage was noticeable, needing to be covered. A scarf would be necessary. What wasn’t necessary was the half hour it took for Viktor to match the perfect outfit with the perfect scarf.

In the end, the scarf ended up a little pointless. It didn’t help that, as they were approaching the restaurant, Viktor kept toying with it. He was trying to make sure that it hid the bandage well enough.

Phichit and Chris noticed Viktor toying with the scarf right away, and both of them reacted to it – for different reasons.

Phichit’s mouth popped open a little. “Yuuri,” he crossed his arms, appearing far too amused for his own good. “You didn’t.”

Yuuri pointedly looked from Phichit to Chris, hoping that Phichit would understand that Chris didn’t know. At the very least, they were in public.

Thankfully, Chris only waggled his brows, not suspicious of any supernatural activity.

“Trying to claim the Living Legend for yourself, are we?” Chris teased. “How many marks did you leave?”

“As many as I let him.” Viktor answered smoothly.

“ _Viktor_.” Yuuri protested, trying to hide his heated face. At this point, he could just paint his face red, for how hard he’d been blushing all afternoon.

Celestino just stared at the scarf.

Throughout dinner, Yuuri and Viktor had to deflect far too many innuendos. It didn’t matter how many times Yuuri tried to bring the conversation back to figure skating – or any other topic that didn’t brush across his still nonexistent sex life – either Chris or Phichit would ask another not-so-subtle question.

At least Viktor had fun with it. And maybe that was a good thing. It was, crazily enough, far better for there to be rumors of Viktor and Yuuri having wild sex than there to be of Yuuri _drinking Viktor’s blood_. So, as much as Yuuri squirmed in his seat, he let Viktor encourage Chris’s implications.

Celestino, a smart man, mostly stuck with conversing with Chris’s coach.

After dinner though, Celestino stopped Yuuri, just as he was about to head off to the elevators.

“I can only assume that you had something to do with that?” He gestured to Viktor’s scarf.

“Er,” Yuuri considered jumping on the ‘nope, we’re just young and horny’ bandwagon, but his former coach gave him a look that didn’t leave room for half-hearted lies. So Yuuri relented. “Yes. I did.”

Celestino barely gave a reaction. “I had a feeling that this would happen.”

Yuuri blinked. He was trying to form an unsuspicious way of asking what exactly gave Celestino the impression that Yuuri would drink Viktor’s blood, but Celestino was rummaging in his coat, and he pulled out a book-shaped parcel. He handed it to Yuuri.

“If you and Viktor plan to make a habit out of this, then you should read this.”

“Thank you?” Yuuri accepted the parcel. The hard surface confirmed that it was indeed a book.

“It’s from my own library, but it’s been collecting dust for years. I’ve had no need or interest for such an arrangement… but if you and Viktor do…”

Yuuri was only left more confused. “Alright,” he still said.

“Good. Good. Alright then, ciao ciao.”

* * *

Yuuri waited until he and Viktor were back in their hotel room in order to open the parcel. The two sat side by side on Viktor’s bed. Viktor had his arm around Yuuri’s lower back, and he leaned in close enough, to see Celestino’s inexplicable gift, that his chin was tucked along Yuuri’s shoulder.

Underneath the brown wrapping paper was a nondescript, academic book. It was faded black cloth, and the hardback cover didn’t have any title or description of any kind. Yuuri cracked open the cover to reveal the title page. It was in English.

“’Blood Pairs: A History and Guide.’” Yuuri read aloud. The text was typewriter grandiose. It was clear that there weren’t many copies of the book in existence.

“Hmm… blood pairs? I think I’ve heard about something like that.” Viktor said. He reached forward with his free hand and flipped to the table of contents.

‘ _Chapter One… What are Blood Pairs?_ ’

‘ _Chapter Two… The Proposed Origin of Blood Pairs_.’

‘ _Chapter Three… Old Families_.’ And so on and so forth.

“Shall we find out?” Viktor asked, already toying with the page.

Yuuri nodded, and they opened up to the first chapter and began reading. Yuuri, having experience in writing academic papers in English, had to pause at the end of each page in order to let Viktor catch up. He let Viktor turn the pages when he was ready. A couple pages in, Viktor settled into a notable reading pace, and Yuuri didn’t have to wait so long at the end of each page.

Blood Pairs were a long term agreement between an individual vampire and an individual human. In turn for letting the vampire drink their blood, the human would receive care and protection. Most of the time, Blood Pairings were contractual business. The vampire and human might not even be close friends. And it was implied that if the vampire could afford it, it was common to be Blood Pairs with more than one human. However, there were Blood Pairs based in platonic and romantic bonds.

It was a little astounding that such a concept was not only millenniums old, but that it was well recorded and treated like a serious matter in the vampire community.

Yuuri wanted to keep reading, but their flight back to Japan was early the next morning. Yuuri hated having to get up before eight badly enough as it was, and he wanted a good amount of sleep for an international 9:30am flight.

That and it was just catching up to Yuuri how spent the day had left him. Understanding, Viktor insisted that Yuuri get ready for bed. Viktor decided to get a head start into reading the book.

While Yuuri shed his dinner clothes and padded around the hotel room, Viktor called out interesting facts.

“Yuuri, there’s a recorded instance of two sisters being a Blood Pair. They were from mixed parentage… one sister was a vampire, one was a human.”

“It says here that a human has to be sixteen to consent to being part of Blood Pair, while a ‘true born’ vampire needs to be at least forty years old. And that’s considered the age of a young adult vampire. Wow! Vampires must live very long!”

Or, while Yuuri was trying to brush his teeth – a habit, he really didn’t need to, the routine just brought him minty comfort – Viktor giddily announced, “Yuuri, Yuuri! There’s an entire chapter about safe sex in Blood Pairs!”

Yuuri had nearly choked on toothpaste.

Fortunately, for all Viktor was likely trying to draw a reaction, Yuuri finished getting ready for bed without further incident. He plopped down onto their shared bed, absolutely ready to hide under the covers and sleep for two days.

Viktor lowered the book, and he shifted so that he was laying on his side, facing Yuuri.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Yuuri yawned. He cuddled up into Viktor’s arms.

“I’ll read it on the plane,” Yuuri murmured sleepily. “Good night.”

* * *

Yuuri slept the entire plane ride. 

He really should have thought of opening the book, at the very least to skim it. 

But the events in Beijing had just left him exhausted. He wanted to take Viktor and Makkachin to bed, crawl under the covers, and never surface from his tomb.

Life for Yuuri just didn't seem to work out that way.

There were black cars parked outside Yu-Topia when the cab dropped Yuuri and Viktor off. When Yuuri got closer to the entrance, he saw the closed sign on display – even though it was the middle of the day and there was no reason for the onsen to close so early.

Viktor and Yuuri took each other’s hands, a sense of foreboding falling over both of them.

They walked inside, to be greeted by at least ten men in suits. Off to the side, the rest of the Katsuki family was watching on with frightened eyes. Standing at the front of the pack was Agent Tanaka, his dark smile emanating from him to fill the room with a sense of danger.

“Katsuki Yuuri,” he announced, his eyes dancing in nothing short of pleasure, “You have been charged and convicted with the highest offense... the attack on a human.”

Yuuri's unbeating heart dropped from his chest. Cold fear overtook him.

Agent Tanaka drank it all in. 

"Your time," Tanaka preened, "is finally up." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:  
> " _Hùndàn, cào nǐ mā_ " - bastard, fuck your mother (Chinese curse)  
> " _qù sǐ_ " - go die
> 
> (Yuri on Ice fanfics, with their rampant use of foreign languages, are seriously giving me Hetalia flashbacks. Someone save me.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos on the last chapter! I'm really excited to share this update with you!   
> Of course, at the same time, I still take constructive critiques. 
> 
> But, um, just a heads up. This chapter is… angst.

“You have been charged and convicted with the highest offense... the attack on a human.”

Tanaka had said it in Japanese.

Viktor didn’t know enough Japanese to parse out the words. He just knew it wasn’t anything good. Especially with the way blood drained from Yuuri’s face.

“What did he say?” Viktor whispered at Yuuri, a growing edge to his voice. Yuuri could only stand rooted the spot, run through with bone chilling fear. He was only somewhat aware of Viktor at his side, now tugging on his jacket sleeve in a desperate attempt to get Yuuri’s attention. “Yuuri, _Yuuri_ , what did he say?”

“Detain Katsuki.” Tanaka ordered to two of the _keiya_ standing at his left side. Both were tall and bulky, not wearing complete uniforms like the well fitted suit that Tanaka wore. When their hands went to holsters on their hips, Viktor grabbed onto Yuuri’s arm.

Tanaka glanced at Viktor, appraising him apathetically. To a female agent at his right side, he waved a hand in Viktor’s direction.

“The victim will need a counselor. Take care of it.”

She nodded and started over towards Viktor. The hulk-large agents, now clicking their guns off safety, rounded their way towards Yuuri.

Viktor threw himself in front of Yuuri.

“No!” He protested, his shout filling the entryway. “He didn’t do anything wrong! Whatever you’re accusing him of, he didn’t do it!”

“Sir,” the female agent said in calm English, approaching Viktor with her hands yielding, as if Viktor was some wounded animal. “Please come with me. We will help you. It will be alright. You’ll be safe.”

“No!” Viktor repeated. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on!”

“They think…” Yuuri whispered, finding his voice, but slowly losing all concept of reality. “They think I attacked you.”

Viktor’s head turned toward Yuuri, just a fraction enough that Yuuri saw Viktor’s wide, unbelieving eyes.

“But you didn’t! I offered.” Viktor faced back towards the _keiya_ to repeat himself. “Do you hear that? I _offered_.” And then, in Japanese, Viktor stressed, “I wanted to give my blood.”

“I know you believe that, sir.” The female agent said, now in front of them and reaching for Viktor’s arm. “But vampires, especially _gaioni_ , are very dangerous. They can make you think horrible things. We’re trying to help you.”

“Don’t touch me!” Viktor snapped. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Yuuri did nothing wrong!”

But in the moment that Viktor was distracted, trying to pull away from the female agent’s grasp, the other two agents slipped to the side. Next thing Yuuri knew, there was the press of a gun barrel to his head.

“On the ground.” The agent with the gun to Yuuri’s head ordered, his voice just as thick as his arms, and as intimidating as his gruff face.

Viktor whipped around, ready to come to Yuuri’s defense, but the _keiya_  behind him took the opportunity to ensnare her arms around Viktor’s body.

Yuuri watched helpless as panic bloomed across Viktor’s face. Viktor struggled in the agent’s hold, to no effect. No matter Viktor’s athletic strength, and the height he easily had on the agent, it was clear that she was trained in restraining people much bigger than herself. Viktor thrashed about, tried to become a dead weight, tried to do everything, but found himself being dragged away from Yuuri.

Yuuri had little choice but to lower himself to the ground.

“Hands behind your back.” The deep, gruff voice ordered from behind Yuuri.

Flitting between body trembling terror and mind-numbing dissociation, Yuuri obeyed again. Viktor continued to shout and cry out anything he could think of, in English and Japanese, to get the _keiya_ to stop. But they wouldn’t listen to him. Those were the ramblings of a delusional, brainwashed man, for all they cared.

The second big agent slapped handcuffs onto Yuuri, and Yuuri screamed.

The room froze for a moment. Viktor’s face turned white as a sheet.

The metal of the handcuffs were like red hot iron on Yuuri’s skin. It seared into his skin, shooting fiery pain through his arms. 

“You like that, Katsuki?” Agent Tanaka sneered, now finding it safe to approach Yuuri’s pathetic position on the ground. Yuuri barely heard him as he cried out over the pain. “Those handcuffs have been inscribed with a blessing. It feels just like holy water, doesn’t it?”

 Tanaka kneeled down and cupped Yuuri’s chin with a gloved hand. He pushed up to snap Yuuri’s mouth shut, and squeezed into Yuuri’s skin to force him to look up at Tanaka. “Shh, shh, don’t scream. You don’t want to scare your beloved family, right?”

Yuuri gritted his teeth, panting uselessly through his nose.

“Now,” Tanaka continued, “don’t worry. I am a merciful man. I won’t kill you in front of your family.”

Yuuri whimpered. At the reminder of his family, who was still present in the room, Yuuri looked over at them. Even from across the way, their terrified heartbeats pounded in his ears. Picking up on all these sounds now, Yuuri could hear, from some room in the house, Makkaching crying out and barking.

He could just barely pick up the scrape of Makkachin’s paws at a door.

Knowing that the agents had likely just tossed Makkachin into a room, and were now keeping the innocent pet locked away, anger swirled within Yuuri. Anger at himself, anger at Tanaka, anger at how fucked up his life was now thanks to two measly rogue American vampires.

He had sworn to himself that he would never let anything happen to his family.

“If I go with you,” Yuuri glared at Tanaka, struggling to ground the words out, as the handcuffs burned without alleviation, “do you promise to leave everyone here alone? Viktor and my family?”

One of Tanaka’s brows quirked up, as if he had to decide on if he liked the offered deal or not. Or maybe he was reveling in watching Yuuri go rigid at trying to ignore the pain around his wrists. That was probably more likely. Tanaka just tilted his head in amusement as Yuuri began to shake. After drawing the wait out longer than necessary, Tanaka agreed with a dramatic flair of reluctance.

“I can’t believe I’m listening to the demands of a depraved _gaioni_ like you…” He muttered, and then nodded to one of agents behind Yuuri, before gesturing to the door.

Yuuri found himself being dragged to his feet, and then pushed forward by the agent who had earlier pressed the gun to his head. Crazily enough, the rough way he was being forced out the door was a welcome distraction from the pain of the handcuffs… and then pain of the handcuffs was a welcome distraction from the way Viktor called out his name like a dying man.

“Yuuri! _Yuuri_ , no please!”

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut. He focused on anything and everything that wasn’t the sound of the chaotic hearts of his family, or Makkachin's confused cries... or Viktor’s sobbing pleas.

He was directed into the backseat of one of the black cars.

Yuuri was a little surprised that the agents didn’t just force him out of his jacket and do away with him under the sun now peeking out from some clouds. But as much as this was a slower corner of town, there was still the odd local about. The _keiya_ likely couldn’t deal with the consequences of such a spectacle. No, they were going to go someplace more private to carry out the execution.

The thought of his coming death made Yuuri’s entire body go cold.

There was a very good chance that Agent Tanaka would find a way to draw it out, to make Yuuri suffer.

Hell, Yuuri had known right from the beginning that offending a true born was the worst, most reckless thing he could do as a riser vampire. And yet, Yuuri pushed the limits anyways. When he was supposed to be keeping a low profile – just as Agent Nakamura had instructed him – he went and drank Viktor’s blood.

Like a death chasing  _idiot_!

A very dark part of Yuuri suggested that he only had this coming. He knew the consequences. He still crossed the line.

But… the other side of him wondered how this had all come about.

In fact, it now caught up as suspicious to Yuuri that the _keiya_ would be at his home, ready to arrest him, when he had just arrived in Japan. Unless there was someone at the airport, tasked with checking Viktor for any bitemarks, there was no reason the _keiya_ should already know.

Unless.

That Chinese vampire hunter.

“H-hey,” Yuuri called out from the caged-in backseat, watching Tanaka slide into the front passenger seat. “In Beijing, was I being followed?”

The driver of the car, the bulky agent who had manhandled Yuuri out the door, banged on the cage separating the front and back seats.

“Shut up, demon!”

Yuuri startled and pressed back into the seat. Big mistake. It made the handcuffs dig into his skin. He hissed.

Agent Tanaka only chuckled. “It’s alright, Ito. This is a fair and just country. A condemned man should know how he was accused.” Then to Yuuri, he answered, “Yes, we had you followed. You really think we trusted you one moment to stay in line? We knew the moment that Nikiforov arrived here that it would only cause trouble.”

 “You knew that he would figure me out?” Yuuri asked, shocked. The car pulled out of the Yu-Topia lot. Yuuri grimaced, trying to find the best position to maintain minimal contact between his skin and the handcuffs.

“After what happened to his older sister?” Tanaka snorted. “Only a fool would think Nikiforov could stay ignorant.”

The dig at Yuuri, and all his months worrying over Viktor figuring out his secret, didn’t go unnoticed. But he was still caught up on how well the _Japanese_ vampire hunters knew about _Viktor_.

“You know about Inna’s murder?”

“You mean the greatest vampire related scandal in the past twenty years? Do you know how much it took to keep the public from figuring it out? Do you know how many would-be conspiracists we had to silence?” Tanaka groaned, sounding more like an overworked, misunderstood office employee than a sadistic vampire hunter. “The moment Nikiforov showed up in Hasetsu, I knew it wouldn’t end well. I knew the two of you would do something that would threaten the very peace the _keiya_ have worked so hard to maintain.”

Peace? Just how did the _keiya_ 'silence' these would be conspiracists? The more Yuuri knew about the vampire world, the more it seemed like the terms of ‘peace’ were dictated entirely by the true borns.

The scenery flew past the black tinted windows. Yuuri had no idea where they were taking him. Every word out of Tanaka’s mouth was filling him with very heavy trepidation. He sat on edge, feeling like he was missing something. Something very important.

Why all these accusations against Viktor? More so, Agent Tanaka had, it seemed, more than one reason to go after Yuuri. He had more than one reason for months. So why _now_?

With Yuuri’s attention so divided over other things – his burning wrists, worrying over Viktor and his family, trying to figure Tanaka out – it took him far too long to realize that the car was going inland. Half an hour passed, and they were still driving.

The car was shadowed by mountains and forest, creating a great contradiction between the terror that Yuuri felt, and the peaceful beauty of the scenery. Did an execution of a vampire have to be so far removed from the rest of society?

 _What was Viktor doing right now_?

Yuuri shook his head. He couldn’t afford to think like that right now. In truth, Yuuri wished he could turn his head off and just spend his last moments far removed from the rest of the world.

Even if he _did_ know why the _keiya_ were going after him now – because it seemed all too suspicious that they wouldn’t book him months ago – it wouldn’t help Yuuri now. Or at least, there didn’t seem to be any way to take Agent Tanaka off his warpath.

Unless…

“Viktor and I are a blood pair!” Yuuri shouted, surprising even himself with how suddenly he had interrupted the heavy silence in the car.

Ito slammed on the breaks, throwing everyone forward, and pulled over to the side of the road. Yuuri gulped, realizing his mistake, when Ito turned to stare Yuuri down. There was the distinct noise of a gun being cocked.

“The hell did you just say?”

“Ito, Ito,” Tanaka waved his fellow agent down, “Let me handle this.”

Agent Tanaka then turned in his seat. Yuuri did not like the smirk that Tanaka wore.

“So, you learned some new terms?” He said. “Won’t do you much good. See, if the two of you were truly a blood pair, we’d already know about it.”

“Why? Because you were having me followed?”

Tanaka laughed at that. It was a cold, yet triumphant laugh, that had Yuuri sinking into the car seat. “You just proved my point! If you actually knew how blood pairs worked, then you would know the process it takes to form a pair.”

 _Shit_. Yuuri thought.

He didn’t read the book. Didn’t even skim it over.

“Keep driving.” Tanaka ordered Ito. The car pulled back onto the highway. Pleased with himself, Tanaka sat back into his seat. “You see, Katsuki, if we made exceptions for everyone who claimed to be in a blood pair, well, we wouldn’t be accomplishing much, would we?”

But Yuuri barely heard what Tanaka said. He had exhausted all his options. It didn’t matter if he was actually innocent or not. There was truly no way out of it.

Yuuri was going to die.

* * *

The car ride was an hour long. During the last ten minutes of the drive, Yuuri hadn’t seen a single house, or any sign of society, really. The final destination was what looked like a gravel plant, deep in the hills. Ito flashed an ID at the man operating the front gate.

The setting was nondescript, and seemingly unthreatening. But it was remote. And empty. Besides the man at the front gate, Yuuri couldn’t see any employees. None of the vehicles or machines were running.

There likely wasn’t another person for miles.

When Ito pulled Yuuri from the car, the clouds were still covering the sun. That was one mercy, as Yuuri’s jacket hood had slipped off when he had been first pushed into the car. He had no way to protect himself from the sun when his hands were locked behind his back. That, and with the way the clouds were rolling, the sun would likely make another appearance. Tanaka pulled a black umbrella from the car – one that looked exactly like the umbrella Yuuri had first seen the agent with, back when they first met in the airport – and carried it with him.

Now, Tanaka led in a confident stroll as Ito directed Yuuri forward. The three made their way across the grounds, past a couple of the rock piles, until they came to where it appeared the rock was being mined from the mountain.

They stopped right in front of pit. The pit was a wide, deep hole in the ground. It looked like a four or five meter drop to the bottom. The earth walls of the hole were almost perpendicular to the ground, and did not appear possible to climb.

Yuuri frowned, studying it. There was something peculiar about some of the earth at the bottom of the hole. There were distinct lumps of dark red-gray rock that didn’t match with the surroundings. These rocks weren’t wholly solid either, but were crumbled and dusty.

“Take off your clothes.” Ito ordered.

Yuuri blanched. _What_? One, how was he supposed to that in handcuffs, and two, _why_?

But then he looked down into the hole again.

And gasped.

Those weren’t rocks.

Ito grabbed onto Yuuri’s jacket, trying to yank it off. Yuuri jerked back.

“I’d do what he says. It’s a faster death if you’re completely exposed to the sun.” Tanaka said, checking the sky. The clouds were still blocking the sunlight, but there was now a patch of blue following the gray. Casually, Tanaka opened his umbrella.

Yuuri struggled away from Ito’s grasp, but every jerk movement shook the handcuffs around on his wrists. It was agonizing.

There was a faint sound in the distance.

Yuuri wasn’t yet aware of the sound. He was trying to get away from the pit.

Ito had a grasp on his jacket now, and was yanking at it, while simultaneously dragging Yuuri closer towards the edge of the pit. Yuuri’s feet scrambled to avoid the edge. From the bottom, the remains of countless vampires seemed to cry up to Yuuri. What a terrible ending! To be reduced to such rubble!

He remembered what it was like to stick his hand out in front of the warehouse window. The Detroit Patrollers didn’t expect him to handle more than a few seconds of exposure.

And that was just his hand!

“We’ll throw you down there to die a slower death, if you don’t stop struggling.” Tanaka said, from under the safety of his umbrella.

The sound got louder. In the midst of his losing struggle with Ito, Yuuri finally recognized the sound.

A siren.

Yuuri screamed for help. Someone was out there.

Ito clamped a hand over Yuuri’s mouth. His grip was so strong that Yuuri could barely move his jaw, much less open his mouth. To do what? Bite Ito? And prove himself a monster?

An eternity of seconds later, another black car – with a siren light perched on its roof – tore into the gravel plant.

Dust kicked up into the air as the car skidded to a stop before the pit.

Before the dust even settled, Agent Nakamura emerged from the driver’s seat. He was holding up his cell phone.

“Stop!” Nakamura called out.

Relief flooded through Yuuri so fast, he thought his legs would give out.

Because right after Nakamura, Viktor and Mari jumped from the car.

“Stop!” Nakamura demanded again, rushing up to Tanaka. “They’re a recognized blood pair.”

“No, they’re not.” Tanaka spat back. “Katsuki already tried that excuse.”

“It’s true.” Nakamura said, and he held up the phone. It was on video chat. Yuuri’s eyes widened when he recognized Celestino on the screen. “I already confirmed it with the hunter who approved it.”

Tanaka stared at the screen, looking like he was ready to toss the phone into the pit with Yuuri.

“Cialdini, Italian division of the IVAHL.” Celestino introduced himself. “I’m sure you recognize the name.”

Tanaka’s features twisted like he had just been forced to eat leaves. “You’re that coward that dropped hunting to become a skater!”

“Yes, I did find my passion in skating.” Celestino nodded. “But I am still recognized by the IVAHL, on account of my family name. Therefore, I have the authority to sanction blood pairs. Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are a blood pair, and to execute Yuuri now for legally drinking Viktor’s blood would be in violation of IVAHL code. I hope you understand that not even your local laws can overrule this.”

Caught, Tanaka’s eyes widened furiously. Red seeped into the irises.

“Thank you, Cialdini- _san_ ,” Nakamura said, bringing the phone back to face the screen.

“Thank you for contacting me.” Celestino said in turn. “Will you be needing any more of my services?”

“Not at this time.” Nakamura answered. “I will let you go back to sleep.”

Agent Nakamura tapped off the call. He then looked up at Tanaka and Ito.

“Well?” He demanded, expectantly. “Katsuki- _san_ is innocent. Release him!”

Ito dropped Yuuri like he was a venomous snake. Weak, Yuuri fell to his knees.   

Agent Nakamura wasted no time in going to Yuuri, to take off the handcuffs.

It was sweet relief. In just half a minute, Yuuri could already feel the pain around his wrists receding. Shakily, he stood up. The first person he connected eyes with were Viktor. The two stared at each other, frozen, unsure if they could move.

“You’re free to go.” Agent Nakamura said, with a rather gentle voice.

It was all the permission Yuuri needed.

He and Viktor raced to each other. Yuuri flew into Viktor’s waiting arms, nearly knocking the both of them over.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor cried, leaving kisses all over Yuuri’s head. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri felt like laughing through the tears now streaming down his face. He held onto Viktor like Viktor was his only lifeline. “Why are you apologizing?”

“It was my idea, my fault, I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Yuuri nuzzled further into Viktor’s jacket lapel. “I don’t blame you.”

He just felt so safe right now.

Belatedly, Yuuri peeked up from Viktor’s chest to realize that he was standing in a shadow, where there had not previously been any. He looked up and saw an umbrella. When he checked to see who was holding it, he saw Mari standing there.

She was glaring at him. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“What the hell was that for?” She smacked Yuuri on the arm, with the hand that wasn’t holding up the umbrella. Her voice shook. “Did you just try to _sacrifice_ yourself?”

“I…” Yuuri didn’t know what to say. He had never seen his sister this upset before. The closest to this he had ever seen her was when an old boyfriend cheated on her. That boy had paid dearly for his mistake, and Mari had become pickier about potential dates since then.

Yuuri now hoped that he hadn’t just made too big of a mistake in his sister’s eyes.

“Did you think of us at all? How we would feel about that?” She swallowed, her face set in concentration to keep from crying.

“I-I’m sorry.” Yuuri answered. It sounded almost like a question.

She smacked him on the arm again. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt. Just to make a point. “You better be! Don’t you ever do something like that again!”

And then she was brushing his face with mother-like care, checking him over. “Did they hurt you?”

His wrists, at that point, didn’t hurt anymore. As far as he was concerned, nothing they had done left any permanent damage. He shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

Viktor squeezed him a little bit tighter at that.

“Good.” She patted his cheek, and then returned that hand to the handle of the umbrella. Yuuri let his head fall back down on Viktor’s chest. Viktor kissed him at the top of his head again. When Mari made a very sibling-like face, Yuuri knew that he was forgiven.

He was able to take a welcome breath of relief.

“Viktor Nikiforov.” Tanaka’s voice cut through that relief. The other vampire stared them all down, forcing an unsettling smile. “Forgive me, but I’ve heard a great deal about you. May I extend my sympathies?”

Viktor looked like Tanaka was the last person he’d accept sympathy from. He even shifted Yuuri to the side, to put more distance between Yuuri and the _keiya_ agent. Mari's glare could melt ice. But Tanaka kept talking, oozing disgustingly fake charisma. “What a horrible thing for you to go through. Worse yet, I imagine, that your sister’s killer… he still walks free, doesn’t he?”

Viktor went stiff.

Tanaka tilted up his chin, reveling in finding a weak point. “That’s quite a shame, isn’t it? What terrible power us true borns have, to get away with such things. Oh, but what can you do?” Smile still on his face, Tanaka’s eyes turned dark. “I pity anyone who gets in the way of a true born.”

Yuuri shuddered.

Leaving it at that, Tanaka returned to his car.

Mari flipped off his retreating figure.

Agent Nakamura joined them, his entire posture yielding towards whether or not they wanted him there. Given that he was probably the only _keiya_ agent the Katsuki family currently liked, Nakamura was allowed to approach them.

Yuuri also had a million questions that needed to be answered.

But first thing’s first, Nakamura suggested that he drive them back to Yu-Topia. That was a welcome suggestion. 

Piling into Nakamura’s government issued car, they were all quiet at first. Nakamura took the siren down from the roof. Mari got into the front passenger seat, while Viktor and Yuuri didn’t let go for one second to climb into the back. The two didn’t bother to buckle in, and no one said anything when Viktor immediately pulled Yuuri back into his arms. It was helpful that there weren't any bars separating the front and back. The whole car smelled like cigarettes, and there was even a little Buddha bobble figure on the dash. The character of the car helped calm Yuuri down. 

Nakamura pulled out of the gravel plant. Yuuri prayed he would never see this place again.

The peaceful, beautiful scenery rolled past the window.

Finally, the agent spoke first.

“That was not supposed to happen.” He said, in English, likely for Viktor’s sake. “It will be difficult, but we’re going to try to remove Agent Tanaka from the _keiya_.”

Yuuri let out a sigh. Thank god.

“But… he thought Yuuri had actually broken the law.” Mari pointed out. “I mean, he’s an asshole and I’m glad he’s getting fired, but… was what he did that out of line?”

“It wasn’t just today’s events. Yes, Yuuri is innocent, according to the IVAHL, but executing an innocent vampire is not enough to punish someone like Tanaka. His status as a true born is too great.”

“Then what…” Mari started.

“Agent Tanaka plotted to have a human killed.” Nakamura answered. “Such actions go directly against the oath he took, and therefore might be reason enough to demote him.”

“Who?” Yuuri asked, his eyes wide.

“Viktor. Tanaka arranged to have both you and Viktor killed.”

A hush fell over the car. When no one else could say anything, Nakamura continued.

“Tanaka went after you today because the murder attempt failed. He had collaborated with a Chinese hunter to send a rogue _gaioni_ after you. It was meant to look like a tragic, freak accident. Obviously, when Cialdini- _san_ intervened, the plot was compromised. The Chinese hunter likely had to kill the vampire off, to avoid suspicion.”

Oh. That vampire from the alley in Beijing.

A lump formed in Yuuri’s throat.   

‘ _What terrible power us true borns have, to get away with such things_.’

Just how much power did a true born have?

“How do you know all this?” Viktor asked, his voice surprisingly level.

“I’ve been tracking Tanaka’s movements for months, since you arrived here in Kyushu, Nikiforov- _san_. I knew that Tanaka would feel threatened by you, given that you have reason to distrust the true born hierarchy.”

So, Nakamura knew that Tanaka would try to arrest Yuuri?

“You didn’t call him?” Yuuri spoke up, looking at Viktor, asking about Nakamura's miraculous appearence.

“No, he showed up at Yu-Topia moments after you left.”

“Oh.” Yuuri looked to the driver. “Thank you.”

A very subtle blush appeared on Nakamura’s cheeks. “Just doing my job.”

Another quiet moment passed. And then Mari asked for a cigarette.

Both she and Nakamura lit up cigarettes and rolled down the windows to let the smoke out.

Yuuri let the two of them have their smoke break. He was sure that Mari really needed one, after all. For the time being, he snuggled as deep into Viktor’s arms as he could.

A random thought occurred to him.

“Oh, is Makkachin okay?”

A hysteric giggle escaped Viktor’s lips. He buried his head in Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I love you.” Viktor murmured.

Yuuri breathed in, a wave of awe and love washing over him. 

This was the first time Viktor said he loved Yuuri. 

The confession was quiet enough that Yuuri was sure neither Mari or Nakamura heard. Good. Yuuri wanted the moment to himself. The world may have witnessed their first kiss. But here, in the backseat, while his sister and a government agent smoked their nerves away, this was a moment for Yuuri and Viktor only.

It was into this warm moment that Yuuri escaped. As the drive carried on, the tension in the car lifted. Mountains and minutes rolled by, until Yuuri felt comfortable asking some other questions he had. Like, "What's the IVAHL?"

Nakamura and Viktor took turns explaining that. The acronym IVAHL, pronounced phonetically, stood for the International Vampire Hunter’s League. As it turned out, if Yuuri had bothered to read the blood pair book – like he should have, because really, how many times was Celestino going to have come to his rescue? – he would know all about the IVAHL. Most of it was covered in chapters one ( _What Are Blood Pairs_ ) and eight ( _The Laws of the Practice_ ).

The IVAHL was an old organization, dating back to the late 1500s. The league started out as a loose alliance of vampire hunters, during the height of witch hunts. It originated in Western Europe, and it used to be called just the VAHL, until hunters from non-European countries joined. Still, to this day, the IVAHL had final say on all matters related to vampires. It was no longer just a hunting organization, but now provided resources and legislation.

Japan was a member of the IVAHL, and that was why the International League could overrule anything the _keiya_ did. Though, according to Nakamura, Japan only recently joined in the 1950s. American vampire hunters had insisted on it, during the restoration period following the second world war. Older true borns, like the Tanaka family, were still opposed to the authority of an outside organization.

“I think we’re better off under the IVAHL,” Nakamura said, blowing out the smoke from his second cigarette. “It’s obviously not perfect. The IVAHL started out as a sadistic, anti-non-Protestant group. It’s had to change a lot since then, to operate effectively on the international stage. But since the IVAHL is exclusively run by humans, it’s one of the last powers not overrun by true borns.”

The car returned to a comfortable silence after that. 

* * *

When they got home, Yuuri was transferred from Viktor’s arms to his mother’s. (In Yuuri’s place, a now freed Makkachin demanded Viktor’s attention.)

Yuuri let his mother’s familiar, earthy scent envelope him, grateful beyond belief that he hadn’t lost it. She and Toshiya didn’t scold Yuuri for worrying them. Hiroko just held her son for a very long time, until Yuuri was certain that her tears had left a damp circle on his clothes.

Toshiya, not usually for open affection – unless it was silly flirting with Hiroko – just patted Yuuri on the back. Yuuri sniffled, overcome with the love he was surrounded with. 

Respectfully, Agent Nakamura allowed the Katsuki family a fulfilling reunion. Only after everyone was decently satisfied with hug counts did he step in and explain everything – as non-graphically as he could – to Hiroko and Toshiya. He decided it was better that they know Yuuri had a target on his back. Yuuri would have preferred to keep this as his own problem, but the bastard Tanaka blew the doors open on that when he invaded the onsen for Yuuri’s arrest.

Hiroko and Toshiya, expectedly, were worried. Unfortunately, they were already past shock. The worst of the bad news had already come to light.

But before leaving, Nakamura offered the family some protection.

“I’ll see about getting a unit outside of Tanaka’s control to watch over you.” He told them. “If you’re alright with it, they can alternate shifts here.”

He then pulled out a business card and handed it politely to Toshiya. “Here, call me if any of you feel unsafe.”

“Thank you,” Toshiya said, taking the card with a deep bow. Hiroko bowed as well. “Thank you so much for everything.”

Nakamura waved the gratitude off again with a slightly pink face. He then pulled another cigarette out and started to make his way to the door.

“Do you need anything else for now?” The agent asked, shuffling his shoes back on.

“No, no, you’ve done plenty already.” Hiroko gushed, still crying a little. “We can’t thank you enough.”

Agent Nakamura glanced around the place. “Eh, I think I’ll just stop by sometime for dinner and a soak.”

“You’ll have it on the house!” Hiroko promised.

Which reminded Yuuri, he still needed to do something for Celestino. That was three times now that his former coach had come to his rescue. Buying dinner seemed a little too small of a favor.

At the same time, Yuuri was exhausted. The plane ride, surrounded by so many people, was already a trial in of itself. The most recent events were another beast entirely.

“I think I need to go to bed,” Yuuri admitted, once Nakamura had left.

“Alright, dear, sleep well.” Hiroko patted Yuuri on the cheek.

Once they were dismissed, Viktor and Yuuri retreated to Viktor’s room.

* * *

When they were finally free from everyone’s watching eyes, Viktor’s mask fell. Yuuri hadn’t quite realized how much Viktor had been struggling to keep it all together, until Viktor crumpled to sit on his bed. Makkachin jumped up onto the bed and nuzzled into Viktor’s lap. He accepted the affection, but his expression didn’t lighten.

Yuuri sat down on Viktor’s other side. He watched, forlorn, as Viktor softly and absentmindedly scritched Makkachin’s ears.

There was a million things Yuuri could say. Or even not say. Viktor probably just needed some wordless time alone with Yuuri. Hell, Yuuri had no idea how he would even begin to feel if he had nearly lost Viktor. And Yuuri wasn’t the one with murdered sister.

But Tanaka’s threat, about the power of true borns, burned in Yuuri’s mind.

“Viktor,” he hesitated to say, but did anyways. “Did… what happened to Inna… was it really a true born who…?”

Viktor looked down, his expression heavy.

“You don’t have to tell me about it.” Yuuri amended, quickly. This might not be good timing, after all.

“It’s alright,” Viktor said, softly. “You deserve to know.”

Not sure what else to do, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor, in an effort to make Viktor feel safe and comforted. Viktor offered Yuuri a broken smile, his eyes so lost and lonely that it made Yuuri’s chest ache.

“Inna was twenty.” Viktor started. “We were just three years apart. She was my best friend and I was hers. She told me everything. I knew all about the guys she liked and dated, the same way she knew about my boyfriends. So, when one day, she stopped telling me things, I knew something was wrong.”

He took a deep breath and stared at his hands. Yuuri held him tighter. “I knew very little about the guy she was with, just that he was very wealthy and liked his privacy. He started demanding more and more of Inna’s time, telling her that he could make her happier than anyone else. That’s all she would ever really tell me, at the start. All his grand gestures. That one time he showed up at our house in a limo, to take her on a date.

“I knew something was wrong all along. Something about the guy always rubbed me the wrong way. The way he would show up late at night and demand Inna go out with him. The way he'd look at her, as if she was something to own, something to _use_ , and not a person. And then, one day, I think she figured it out too. But he had such control over her life at that point… she was in far too deep…”

Viktor paused, and then hid his face in his hands. His shoulders shook beneath Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri, at lost for what else to do, rubbed soothing circles into Viktor’s back. He let Viktor catch his breath.

Without lifting his head, Viktor continued, his voice strained and muffled.

“The night she died… she came to me… she said that she was going to break up with him… I was so proud of her. But then… she said, with such conviction, I can still remember her face, she said, ‘I’m scared I won’t get out of this alive.’”

Viktor then glanced up at Yuuri, and nothing in the world could pain Yuuri more than seeing Viktor like this. The handcuffs, the edge of the pit, all of that were nothing in comparison to this vulnerable, horrible, aching pain, and how it was tearing apart Viktor's resolve.

He still continued. The story had to be told. “I think she knew. God, Yuuri, I think she _knew_ what he was, what he could do. And she still… Fuck. She called him over to our house. I don’t know, maybe she thought she’d be safer that way. I never heard them argue. I just remember, going to her room. To check on her…”

Silence fell.

It was clear that Viktor couldn’t bring himself to say anymore. He didn’t need to. Yuuri could gather the rest of the story himself. After all, Yuri had said that Viktor was the one who found his sister…

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri said.

He couldn’t believe that the monster that killed Viktor’s beloved sister was still out there. How must that haunt Viktor? How must that weigh on him, when the world already expected Viktor to be invincible? This was such a heavy secret.

There wasn’t much Yuuri could do. All he could try to do was help carry some of the burden.

So, at loss for anything else to say, Yuuri just stayed by Viktor’s side, and held him for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, today I’m starting a kickstarter to put Tanaka down. Benefits of killing him would be way less douchebags in Yuuri’s life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So, I have received the requests for fluff, so you all get... uh. I think this counts as fluff?
> 
> Also kids, psa! When drinking your partner's blood, remember to keep things safe, sane, and consensual!   
> (This is also a tw for blood drinking and mild blood kink)

The light, welcoming atmosphere of Yu-Topia, that had been stolen so unjustly in one afternoon, took a few days to recuperate. Even though there weren’t any witnesses to the spectacle of Yuuri’s near-execution, there were still a number of Hasetsu locals who had either been escorted from the premises or not allowed near the building upon the _keiya_ ’s arrival.

Agent Nakamura, as if he hadn’t given the Katsuki family so much already, anticipated the potential backlash. Customers, right away, wanted to know why government agents had descended on Yu-Topia that day. It wasn’t an easy thing to cover up or brush off.

So, when Nakamura came back to make good on his intention for a dinner and a soak in the hot springs, he did what he could to null the storm before it happened. He discreetly spread a rumor that there had been a death threat against Viktor, and Japanese law enforcement had decided to investigate. He made sure to tack on that the whole thing was resolved. No danger here, everyone. Don’t worry.

It took some time for the rumor to spread effectively, but within a few days, regulars were making their way back to the onsen. Locals, who had originally been side whispering about potential health violations or drug scandals, were now overly sympathetic towards Viktor, and quite pleased that their government had actually done something to keep international hero Viktor Nikiforov safe.

Hiroko didn’t let Nakamura spend a dime on his visit.

Yuuri, for his part, finally read the damned blood pairs book. He and Viktor came to the same conclusion: if they were going to keep this arrangement, then they would have to be a lot more organized about it.

For one, they settled that Viktor’s blood would be a treat. Similar to how Yuuri was only allowed katsudon when he won a competition. Now Yuuri was to get both vampire katsudon and Viktor’s blood, if he won a medal. It certainly worked as encouragement.

But Viktor also decided that he was good with rewarding Yuuri with some blood for other special occasions, like holidays or birthdays. Or maybe even other things. He wasn’t entirely clear on that point, and Yuuri had narrowed his eyes suspiciously at how Viktor smiled eagerly with the talk of Yuuri drinking his blood. Yuuri had no idea how Viktor could have enjoyed such a thing that much.

Still, neither of them wanted to repeat the experience of Viktor getting so lightheaded and dizzy. They did some research on how blood donors should stay healthy, and once they had some ideas, they took a trip to the closest convenience store. It was cloudy that day, so Yuuri was able to walk outside without layering clothes on himself. Viktor still took along an umbrella, just in case. Yuuri carried a little list of things that they needed.

The two walked hand in hand, Viktor only turning his attention away from Yuuri to smile at the locals who waved their way. Viktor was now receiving a renewal of attention, thanks to Nakamura’s rumor. It was almost as bad as when he had first arrived in Hasetsu. But the celebrity athlete rolled with it.

“Okay,” Yuuri said, brining Viktor’s attention back to him. “The bandages and water bottles should be easy enough. But in terms of protein bars, do you have any favored brands? I can’t guarantee we’ll have it in Japan but…”

“What do you like?” Viktor asked instead, his eyes twinkling. He leaned into Yuuri, pulling their bodies closer so that he could whisper at Yuuri’s ear. “I want to taste good for you.”

Yuuri’s entire face enflamed.

(Sure, ever since the internationally televised kiss, there had been a growing desire for intimacy between the two, but that didn’t mean Yuuri still wasn’t used to Viktor being so forward. Or at least, he couldn’t keep his head from going in entirely inappropriate directions when it came to Viktor.)

So, naturally, his first reaction was an uncontrolled sputter, which made Viktor laugh.

“Viktor!” Yuuri attempted to scold, but it came out a little too high pitched. He forced his voice lower, making sure other people couldn’t overhear. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t exactly, ya’know, taste what people eat. It’s not like eating pineapples, or anything.”

At that, Viktor’s laughter cut off. “Eating pineapples?”

Just as Yuuri’s blush had started to fade, it flared right back up again.

Viktor, now exceedingly curious, nudged at Yuuri’s side with his elbow. “What about eating pineapples?”

Yuuri had to swallow a few times to even consider getting words out of his mouth. “Well, uh, you know… it’s said that if a woman eats pineapples, then she’ll… her…” He ended up gesturing vaguely to his nether regions. “That it’ll, uh, taste better?”

He could only bring himself to peek at Viktor’s reaction.

“Ah,” Viktor leaned back to stare off in thought. “I did not know that. Of course, I’ve never gone down on a woman.”

“What? You haven’t?”

That shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to Yuuri as it did. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Viktor’s dating history from all the tabloids – and how exclusively it was with men. But with all of Viktor’s adoring fans, Yuuri figured that Viktor had done a bit of everything. Or, at the very least, Viktor was all-knowing about these things.

“Nope.” Viktor smiled, and then tilted his head back down to look at Yuuri. “How do you know that? About pineapples? Hm, have you had any lovers that I don’t know about? It’s okay if you have, you can tell me.”

Yuuri was already shaking his head. “No, no, no, no! I just… I went to school in America and…”

Viktor laughed again. Fortunately, he had enough mercy on Yuuri to let the rest of the walk pass without further make-Yuuri-blush-like-a-tomato incidents. They got to the store and set out to getting the items on the list. Bandages, ointment, water – Viktor did pout a little over the _small corner store_ not having his favorite brand of mineral water – and then found themselves perusing over the little health food section. Yuuri held the basket of the other things that they had picked out. They were keeping their eyes out for anything that had iron and was healthy. (Or, at least, Viktor decided that maybe the multiple pork cutlet bowls he was eating should be balanced with some semblance of healthy food.)

“How about these? They’re a cashew, sunflower seed mix with dried cranberries.”

Viktor checked over – Yuuri noting with mild amusement that Viktor already had three items in his hands from the two seconds that Yuuri had looked away – and nodded.

“That looks good… any added sugar?”

Yuuri flipped the box and read the back. Over his shoulder, Viktor squinted at the Japanese. Yuuri had to vocally translate, since he knew Viktor’s speaking skills were better than his reading skills.

“No, but it’s vegan.”

“Hmm… put it in the basket.” Viktor decided, and then he offered up one of the things he found. There was an English label on the box. “How about these soy bars?”

Yuuri frowned. “Those aren’t actually healthy, so I have no idea why they’re in this section.”

He stepped back and scanned the shelves. “Here,” he grabbed a different box. “If you want soy for protein, these are a better choice.”

“Those look so bland though.”

“So? You drink even blander protein shakes.” Yuuri retorted, and then he hoped Viktor wouldn’t find the statement so weird. It wasn’t like Viktor had ever drank his standard protein shake in Hasetsu. Yuuri only knew about it from an interview Viktor did with an American health magazine. A then teenage Yuuri had tried the shake out, hoping for spectacular effects. All he got was a gross taste and disappointment. Viktor had probably been sponsored by the brand, and thus had to drink it. Poor guy.

In the present, Viktor scrunched his face up a little. “Blander? Is that even a word?”

That caught Yuuri off guard. “Uh… I think?”

“Time to ask Google!” Viktor unloaded his arms into the basket – leaving Yuuri to sort out the unhealthy things and put them back on the shelf – so that he could pull his phone out. After a quick Google search, ‘blander’ was proven to be a word in the English language.

Once that was settled, the two made a final decision on the best snack bars, and headed over to the cash register. Yuuri was a little worried that the man at the register – someone Yuuri recognized as having worked at the convenience store for half of Yuuri’s life – would find something suspicious about their purchases. But the man said nothing, and Viktor insisted on paying.

Leaving the store, Viktor had to shift things so that he could open up the umbrella over them. The sun had peeked out from the clouds.

“Hey,” Yuuri got closer, grateful to be in the shade, but feeling a little overwhelmed by Viktor’s generosity. “I could have paid for all this. Aren’t I supposed to be taking care of you? That’s how this arrangement works, right?”

Viktor blinked a moment in surprise when he looked down at Yuuri. “But you do take care of me.”

“How?”

Viktor looked at Yuuri as if Yuuri had asked if the sky was really blue. Yuuri had to look away from his piercing stare. He had no idea where Viktor got this idea that Yuuri had somehow done anything for him. They walked past a few more buildings in silence, until finally, in a small voice, Viktor confessed,

“I haven’t been this happy, as I am when I’m with you, in a long time.”

Yuuri nearly skidded to a stop. His chest swelled with a thousand feelings he couldn’t name. A swirling mixture of sympathy and happiness and absolute, body consuming _longing_ for Viktor. It was like when Viktor had told Yuuri that he loved him, but somehow, this was more. Yuuri had no idea he meant that much to anyone. Much less… to his long-time idol.

It felt almost natural, then, when they got back to Yu-Topia, to not even waste time putting things away. Yuuri walked Viktor back to Viktor’s room, and then pulled Viktor in for a kiss.

It took Viktor a second to catch up with the program, but when he did, he slipped his arms around Yuuri. His hands were strong and supportive at Yuuri’s lower back, as Yuuri stood up on his toes to reach better. And when Yuuri felt Viktor smile into the kiss, a whole swirl of butterflies burst inside of him. The very human reaction, of all these feelings bouncing around in Yuuri, made him bolder. He pressed in and licked experimentally at Viktor’s bottom lip. Viktor opened right up to the kiss.

Since Yuuri was still learning, he let Viktor lead. Viktor tilted his head to slip his tongue past Yuuri’s lips, and Yuuri couldn’t help but to sigh in pleasure. He ran his fingers through Viktor’s soft hair. Viktor held Yuuri tighter, cupping his hand behind Yuuri’s head, until their bodies couldn’t get closer. The two molded themselves to each other, from their chests to their lips.

So caught up in the moment, Yuuri barely noticed when Viktor walked forward, taking Yuuri backwards to the bed. He felt the bed hit the back of his knees. Realizing Viktor’s intention, and still feeling brave, Yuuri turned them around so that he could push Viktor down onto the bed.

Viktor went down easily, looking up at Yuuri with nothing but eyes darkened in desire and arms open in trust and love. A pink flush spread from Viktor’s nose to his ears.

All of it reminded Yuuri so vividly of their victory in China, when Yuuri had been graced with this exact same view. Viktor looking up at him like Yuuri was the only person in the entire world. It was a very empowering sight. Yuuri got onto the bed and straddled Viktor so that he could continue the kiss.

Yuuri did his best to mimic how Viktor had explored his mouth, pleased with himself when Viktor made throaty sounds of approval. They licked and nipped at each other’s lips. Yuuri swore he could become an addict to Viktor’s taste. He caressed his hand along Viktor’s face and neck, drowning in Viktor’s very human warmth, excitement bubbling up at the thrum of Viktor’s pulse, right under Yuuri’s fingers.

There was one way this was different from China, Yuuri realized then. In Viktor’s room, everything smelled like Viktor. Here, there weren’t any foreign scents. Just Yuuri and Viktor. Their scents together.

Yuuri’s head spun. He wasn’t entirely aware of what he was doing when he broke the kiss to skim his lips down to Viktor’s neck. Viktor’s hands froze from where he had been rubbing up and down on Yuuri’s back. His breath caught in his throat.

The bandage from their previous encounter was on the other side of Viktor’s neck, from where Yuuri was now scenting and tasting the skin. A fleeting moment of self-awareness crossed Yuuri’s mind when his hand brushed the bandage. He should stop himself now. But then Viktor swallowed, and that movement beneath his skin had all of Yuuri’s inhibitions flying out the window.

Viktor didn’t stop Yuuri when he bit down. But something rational in Yuuri’s instinct fuddled mind must have held him back, because he didn’t bite down that hard. Just enough to puncture the skin. Little pearls of blood met his tongue, and he moaned around the taste.

Viktor’s sudden tightened grip at his shirt brought him back to reality. Yuuri gasped and flung right back up into a sitting position.

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have done that! You didn’t offer and I wasn’t supposed to and – ” as Yuuri kept rambling out pitiful apologies, Viktor laid there star struck.

Yuuri watched, his apologies trailing off, as Viktor brought his hand to his neck, to feel the small wound there. When he pulled his hand away, the pointer and middle fingers were stained with a small patch of red. He stared at it, as if not fully aware of what Yuuri had done.

Watching realization dawn on Viktor’s face, Yuuri sagged with shame.

“I’m so sorry, Viktor,” he could feel tears prick at his eyes. Against all rational judgment, Viktor had placed his trust in Yuuri, trust that Yuuri wouldn’t be consumed by his predatory nature. And then Yuuri broke that trust. “I’ll go get the bandages and some water and – ”

He was cut off by Viktor reaching up to place the two blood washed fingers at Yuuri’s bottom lip.

“Go ahead.” Viktor said, his voice barely a wrecked whisper.

“I… but…” Yuuri trembled, the scent of Viktor’s blood so close, right there, right at his lips.

“I would have stopped you, if I didn’t want you to.” Viktor pointed out. “But just this little bit is fine. And then we can cover this up.”

It really wasn’t that much blood. Even now, only little pricks of red were replacing what Viktor had swiped away with his fingers. 

Yuuri swallowed. “Okay,” he breathed. And then he took Viktor’s fingers into his mouth. It was only a bit, but Yuuri still made a useless display of sucking and licking away until he was certain that Viktor’s fingers were clean. Beneath him, Viktor’s eyes were almost black, with how blown his pupils were.

“Alright,” Viktor said, when Yuuri was done, seeming just as reluctant as Yuuri was to break apart. “Go get a Band-Aid.”

Yuuri still obeyed immediately. He went over to the grocery bags that they had left at the inside of Viktor’s bedroom door, and pulled out the anti-bacterial ointment and two small Band-Aids, from a box that they had been sensible enough to purchase. Gauze would have been too much and unnecessary for this brief loss of Yuuri’s self-control. From the nightstand, he grabbed a tissue.

When Yuuri came back to the bed, Viktor was sitting up. Yuuri sat down next to him and went about dabbing at the points in Viktor’s skin, and then rubbing in the ointment. Once the area was clean, he placed the two Band-Aids down.

He looked up and Viktor was smiling at him.

“See, you do take care of me.”

Yuuri looked down. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Viktor placed a kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. “Would you rather me stop you next time?”

Yuuri bit his lip. It was so tempting to say ‘no.’ If Viktor was alright with it, then Yuuri would happily drink his blood time and time again. But that wasn’t good. Even if it was just a little bit each time, to keep breaking Viktor’s skin like that, to slowly bleed him out…

“Yes, please stop me.” Yuuri looked back up, meeting Viktor’s eyes. “From now on, only let me if I medal.”

“Alright.” Viktor gave Yuuri another light kiss, this time on his lips.

* * *

Thankfully, the couple weeks between then and Rostelecom Cup passed without conflict. The only _keiya_ agents who came their way were under Nakamura’s orders to protect the family.

It was very validating to learn that Nakamura didn’t have a limited pool of agents to choose from. Many in the _keiya_ were fed up with not only Agent Tanaka’s behavior, but other true borns in the government. Most of them kept quiet about their dissent, for obvious reasons. The agents who agreed to watch other the Katsuki family and Viktor introduced themselves under pseudonyms. They were generally younger and a little more skittish than Nakamura. Yuuri eventually learned that Nakamura was one of the oldest and higher up officials in their local branch, which explained why he was so bold around Tanaka.

It was crazy to learn all these things. When Detroit Patroller Ciara Williams, all those months ago, had told Yuuri to never offend a true born, he had no idea that the true borns’ influence was this great. What exactly had Yuuri been thrown into, when he was turned into a vampire?

He was nervous to leave the safety of home again. What if he was followed again? What if Agent Tanaka made another roundabout attempt on his or his loved ones’ lives again? What if Russian vampires were a whole other Pandora’s Box of problems?

Both Viktor and Nakamura had to reassure Yuuri that no _keiya_ or _keiya_ spies would be following him to Moscow. The morning Viktor and Yuuri were to set out, Nakamura had come by to make sure everything was still going smoothly.

“Russian vampire hunters are a bit isolationist.” Viktor had explained, when Yuuri expressed his worries. “They don’t take well to outsiders messing around on their turf.”

“Russia isn’t a member of IVAHL, for that very reason.” Nakamura added.

“Also, stay quiet about Yuri’s grandfather being a hunter.” Viktor instructed Yuuri, when Nakamura had walked off to do something else. “True borns aren’t any less powerful in Russia… if not more so than the rest of the world, in some ways. We don’t have any organized system of hunters. Grandpa Plisetsky is more so a vigilante.”

Yuuri had nodded. He had to admit to himself, this was mildly interesting. Before being turned, if Yuuri had given any thought to vampires, he would have assumed that vampire hunting practices would be uniform throughout the world. Instead, he had learned that each country had their own practices. In some cases, it came right down to regional practices – like in the United States.

He wondered what else he would learn while in Russia.

* * *

Viktor and Yuuri touched down in Moscow much later in the day. It was evening, the sun already set low enough that Yuuri didn’t have to worry about protecting himself from the sun. It was Yuuri’s first time in Russia, and Viktor was bouncing on his feet to show Yuuri around.

Still, Viktor had to keep Yuuri’s susceptibility to jetlag into consideration. 6pm in Moscow was about midnight in Japan. Yuuri, a practiced late-nighter (thanks, college), had the energy to tour around for a little bit. They window shopped around the hotel, went out for dinner, and then came back to the hotel needing some sleep. Some paparazzi caught Viktor, but he was able to shuffle Yuuri away – and out of the line of the cameras – before the paps descended. Yuuri quickly made his way to the elevators.

He pushed the up button and stood back to wait. Another skater, Sueng-gil Lee from Korea, if Yuuri recognized him right, also walked up to the elevator the same moment an elevator opened.

Yuuri was met with a wall of sound. Heartbeats and yelling, mostly. He wasn’t practiced enough yet to place all the sounds, but that was definitely Italian skater Michele Crispino shouting. Typical.

“You think I’ll let you get close to my sister?” Michele was rambling off at Czech skater, Emil Nekola, while holding his sister Sara close.

She protested, insisting that Emil was asking the both of them out for drinks.

Sara cut off mid-sentence. She turned to look at both Yuuri and Sueng-gil, her eyes widening. The way she stared at them, studying them both, made Yuuri shift in unease. The entire group seemed to come to standstill, as even Michele stopped badgering Emil to look over.

At that point Yuuri realized that the number of heartbeats he could hear didn’t match up to the number of people present.

“Ah, wait,” she started, as Sueng-gil stepped onto the elevator. “Sueng-gil, er, are you…”

Yuuri focused on placing all the sounds.

Sueng-gil barely afforded Sara a confused quirk of his brow. “Is there something to the rest of that question? Even so, no, to whatever you’re asking.”

“Hey, don’t be rude to my sister!” Michele snapped. But Sara tilted her head, and then just as the elevator doors started to close, her attention flipped right back towards Yuuri.

“Wait, Yuuri, you’re…!”

The elevator doors shut between them.

From the two who were in the elevator, Yuuri had heard only two heartbeats.

And those were Emil and Sueng-gil’s.

A bit dazed, Yuuri caught the second available elevator. Having just escaped the same paparazzi that had descended on Viktor, Yuri Plisetsky stopped the door from closing so that he could get on the elevator. 

If Yuuri remembered correctly, from something Viktor had mentioned on the plane ride, Yuri's grandfather had come into the city to see his grandson skate. Yuuri looked to the younger Yuri, and opened his mouth to ask about Grandpa Plisetsky, but was struck by Yuri's posture.

Yuri was staring anywhere but at Yuuri, and was nervously shuffling his foot back and forth. His hands were stuffed deep in his jacket pockets. 

"Hey, fangs," Yuri started, hesitated, and then continued with, "'Bout me telling you that Viktor hates vampires..."

"Oh," Yuuri let out, realizing what was going on. Yuri was apologizing. Or whatever the Yuri Plisetsky equivalent of apologizing was. "It's alright, you didn't know. Besides, it all worked out, right?"

"Yeah," Yuri kicked his foot. And then like a flip of a switch, now forgiven, Yuri turned on Yuuri and jabbed a finger at him. "But don't think for one second that I'm going to go easy on you tomorrow! You're gonna get crushed in this competition!"

Yuuri chuckled, much to Yuri's angry protests. 

* * *

 

In the room, Yuuri didn’t tell a freshly escaped Viktor about his suspicion towards the Crispino twins. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. But Yuuri had known of the twins for five years now – when they started figure skating as seniors, not even starting out from the junior division. Michele was known for chasing off anyone who wasn’t his sister, but Sara had tried to befriend Yuuri on a few occasions.

In all those years, Yuuri hadn’t noticed anything peculiar about the twins. Well, besides Michele’s weird obsession with keeping his sister safe. And maybe how of all the skaters, those two never went through any awkward growth spurts from their teen to young adult years. Yuuri remembered being a mess of stocky legs and dangly arms as he started to outgrow puberty. His jump and spin compositions around that time were wildly inconsistent.

No, Michele and Sara had kept the same perfect body types for five years. In fact, the skating world, even from their own country, didn’t know who they were when they had first started out. They made a name for themselves for their moving, graceful routines, but usually never topped competitions.

Okay, Yuuri reminded himself to breathe. There were potentially other figure skating vampires. That didn’t necessitate any sudden action.

Yuuri didn’t know if he was excited or nervous.

One thing was for certain: the competition had just gotten much more interesting.

* * *

Morning came with the short programs. Jetlag, and having gone to bed around 8pm, granted Yuuri the ability to wake up extra early. He and Viktor headed to the building holding the competition, grateful to find that the front doors were at least unlocked. Yuuri was too restless to wait around for the ice to open up, so he and Viktor found a hallway for Yuuri to warm up with light jogging.

Half an hour passed before others started making their way to the stadium.

“I’ll go check if the rink is open yet,” Viktor offered. “You keep focusing on stretching.”

Yuuri did as such. The hallway was secluded enough that he didn’t think of paying attention to anything but his music.

So, naturally, when Sara Crispino showed up right in front of him, Yuuri jumped.

“Oh, hi, Yuuri!” she waved. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Yuuri took out his headphones and greeted her weakly in return. “Er, it’s alright.”

He looked over to see Michele there as well. The Italian brother had his hands stuffed in his track suit pockets and was glowering. Though, Yuuri couldn’t tell if Michele was displeased with him or Sara.

“It’s good to run into you now. I’ve been looking for you.” Sara said.

“R-really?” Yuuri stammered. Did this have to do with vampire stuff? Must be. Otherwise, Michele would have tried to step in to prevent another person from dating his sister.

“Sara.” Michele still said, in a warning tone.

Sara tossed a glare at her brother. “ _Stai zitto, voglio solo fargli una domanda_.” And then she tacked on, “Go stand watch. You’re good at that.”

He huffed, tapped his head at her, before turning around and watching down the hall. Sara cheerfully ignored her brother’s gesture, as she turned back to Yuuri.

“Yes. I wanted to ask…” she closed her eyes, “When did you become like us?”

And when she opened her eyes, the irises were a deep crimson.

Yuuri backed up into the wall.

The only other vampire he knew of who could do that was a true born!

Everything peculiar about the Crispino twins clicked into place. Yuuri bowed his head right away, turning his posture submissive.

“T-this past January, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” Sara frowned a moment. Oh no, did Italian true borns go by something else? Yuuri stiffened, expecting the worst. Sara continued with, “There’s no need to… oh! Hello, Viktor!”

Yuuri blinked in surprise. Just as he heard Sara greet his coach, he was able to hear Viktor’s heartbeat approach. Shit. This wasn’t good! Yuuri hadn’t told Viktor last night, and now he had no clue if Viktor knew what Sara and Michele were. Yuuri glanced up at Viktor, still trying to keep himself small. How was he supposed to warn Viktor?

“Hello, Sara, Michele,” Viktor replied to Sara, pleasantly. Once he joined them, he placed an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, pulling him away from the wall. Yuuri meekly followed Viktor to stand with Sara in the middle of the hall. “It’s been awhile. How have you two been?”

Sara shrugged. “Eh, can’t complain too much,” she offered, at the same time Michele afforded a gruff, “We’re fine.”

“Good, good.” Viktor patted Yuuri’s shoulder, before dropping his arm. Viktor’s relaxed, confident posture contrasted everything about Yuuri in that moment. “Did you already introduce yourself to Yuuri, then?”

“Oh, yes.” Sara then giggled. “He called me ‘ma’am,’ though. I didn’t think that was a Japanese thing... is it…?”

Viktor let out a half-amused sigh. “You’ll have to forgive him. Yuuri didn’t have the best first impression with true borns.” And then to Yuuri, he said, “It’s alright. Sara and Michele won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, no!” Sara, before Yuuri could register her movement, closed the gap between them and had a hold of Yuuri’s hands. “What happened?”

Still in his guard spot, Michele glanced over with a somewhat curious expression.

Wide eyed and completely thrown for the loop, Yuuri could only let out an uncertain “uhhh.”

“A Japanese true born tried to have him killed recently.” Viktor answered in his place.

Michele, who Yuuri had been convinced for so long only cared for himself and Sara, actually cursed at that. He seemed just as offended as his sister – who squeezed Yuuri’s hands in comfort.

“That’s horrible!” She said, sincerely.

“What’d you do?” Michele asked, rolling his eyes. “Look at someone funny?”

It slowly caught up to Yuuri that neither of the Crispino twins were expecting compliance from him. Their sympathy for him nor exasperation towards true born antics wasn’t faked. Yuuri’s jaw dropped a little.

“It’s okay. You can tell them.” Viktor said, with a supportive smile.

Yuuri swallowed. “I, um, drank Viktor’s blood.”

“Shit,” Michele let out a low whistle.

Viktor then chuckled. “That’s not the whole story. He really offended this true born. First, he stood up for himself and his family, then he associated with _me_ , and _then_ drank my blood.”

For their credit, both Sara and Michele seemed genuinely impressed. Or incredulous, on Michele’s part. He tapped his head again, not seemingly aware that he was giving Yuuri a look that clearly said, ‘you’re either really brave, or a total idiot.’

“Wow,” Sara said. She stood up on her toes and checked Viktor’s neck. He acquiesced by pulling down his scarf for her to see the marks in his skin. By that point, he had healed over enough that he didn’t need bandages. The first bite was still quite visible but was easily hidden by clothes. The second, shallower one, was only two fading red dots.

She noticed both; her brows shot up. “More than once?”

Yuuri nodded shyly.

“Oh, are you two a blood pair?” Her eyes lit up.

“Sara,” Michele warned again. “We talked about this.”

“You mean you talked at me, and I chose not to listen?”

Michele groaned.

Viktor’s brow rose. “Are you interested in being in a blood pair with someone?”

Sara’s cheeks tured rosy. She let go of Yuuri’s hands to clasp her hands together and glance off. “Oh, um, it’s nothing concrete yet.”

“With whom, may I ask?” Viktor asked, looking right through her.

She glanced back at him. “You won’t get over-protective…?”

“Mila?” Viktor guessed. Judging by how the red in Sara’s face spread, Viktor had guessed correctly. He smiled. “Well, you shouldn’t look for my permission about this.”

“I know,” Sara dropped her hands, sighing. “I mean, she and I have been friends for so long. But how would I even approach her about this? She doesn’t even know what I am. It’s not that I’m after her blood… I just want to protect her. No one would dare touch her if she was ‘mine,’ you know?” A dark look crossed her eyes. “Least of all, handsy hockey players.”

“I understand.” Viktor said. “And to answer your question, yes. But Yuuri and I are a newly sanctioned blood pair. We’re both still learning. So, unfortunately, I don’t have any long-term advice to offer.”

Sara’s face fell a little.

“Hey, someone’s coming,” Michele cut in, looking entirely too pleased to cut off Sara’s research into blood pairs.

Viktor checked his watch, and then offered one last friendly wave to the Crispino twins. “We can talk about this later, alright? The competition is starting soon.”

Ah, right. Skating. Somehow, for once, that had become the last thing on Yuuri’s mind. He took Viktor’s offered hand, and waved to the twins as well with his other. He then let his coach lead him back to the rink area, to continue his warm ups there.

It was weird. This was the first competition this season where Yuuri felt… pretty relaxed about competing. After everything that had happened, facing a crowd of Viktor stans in ‘enemy territory’ seemed the least of Yuuri’s worries. He had already escaped death three times! _And_ had the world’s most eligible celebrity athlete on his arm.

He couldn’t help but to show off his new found confidence in his Eros routine. He knew he could seduce Viktor. This was to show off to everyone else that Yuuri wasn’t intimidated. As he slipped into the second half of the routine, he began to smirk to himself. No, this wasn’t just a message to Russia. This was a message to anyone who thought that they had the upperhand over Yuuri.

He imagined throwing two middle fingers up at the vampire who turned him and at Agent Tanaka. All this confidence boosted him into high, clean jumps. He couldn’t help a sassy tilt to his hips. It felt incredible to skate like this. Before he even slid into his final pose, the entire stadium had erupted into star struck applause.

Still high on his performance, Yuuri blew a couple kisses when he went to pick up a plushie that had been thrown to the ice. When he returned to Viktor, his coach was ecstatic. Viktor’s eyes danced. He had his arms around Yuuri the moment Yuuri came into reach.

And then it was Yuri Plisetsky’s turn.

Yuuri was looking forward to Yuri’s skate. He had wanted to see Yuri’s expression of agape with Grandpa Plisetsky watching from the audience.

But as Yuuri and Viktor made their way to the Kiss and Cry, Yuuri overheard something Lilia was saying to Yuri.

“Just imagine he’s here. He’s still watching. Put all your hard work to good use.”

Yuuri paused – long enough that Viktor had to urge him the rest of the way to the Kiss and Cry bench. Had… Grandpa Plisetsky not shown up after all? Why?

Was Yuri alright? When Yuuri caught the younger skater looking back at the Kiss and Cry, Yuuri waved and called out a supportive ‘ _davai_!’ Viktor joined in, making it a sweet moment. Yuuri figured that he could ask after the competition.

* * *

As it turned out, Yuuri didn’t need to ask. Right as the skaters were leaving the rink area, with Yuri and his two coaches in front of Yuuri and Viktor, the blond teen was accosted by a couple.

“Yurochka!”

An auburn-haired woman, wearing a flashy floral pink and purple dress, threw herself at Yuri. At first Yuuri thought she was one of Yuri’s Angels, but then he noticed that she was middle aged and wore a ring on her wedding finger. She was Yuri’s height, so it was a little amusing to watch as Yuri tried to struggle out of her arms.

The woman was followed by a slightly taller man, with a blond scruffy beard, a beanie, and a dozen necklaces. Yuuri couldn’t recall the last time he had seen someone older than fourty wear that many accessories. Just as Yuri got out of the woman’s arms, he was pulled into the man’s hug.

“Your routine was beautiful!” The woman gushed. “Your best so far!”

Viktor leaned in towards Yuuri’s ear, barely holding in his laughter. “Yuri’s parents.”

And then Viktor was walking forward and calling out to the couple. “Nina, Andrei! Good to see you!”

The couple were sufficiently distracted from showering Yuri with affection; they looked up to see Viktor approaching them.

“Vitya!” The woman, Nina, opened her arms for Viktor to hug her. Once she got closer, Yuuri noticed that she shared the same striking green eyes as her son. He also saw her glittering cat themed earrings. There was definitely a resemblance between mother and son.

But… these weren’t like the people Yuuri had pictured in his head. When he was told of Yuri’s vampire-obsessed parents, he had imagined younger, gothic looking folks. Scratch that, when he had imagined _Yuri Plisetsky’s_ vampire obsessed parents, he had imagined people who had the power to invent a color darker than black.

But instead… Nina and Andrei… honestly looked like hippies.

“What the fuck, you guys know him?” Yuri’s stared wide eyed, watching as Nina and Andrei took turns hugging Viktor.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Nina glanced back at Viktor. She laughed. “Classic, forgetful Vitya.”

Yuri’s glare was probably an attempt at a murderous glare. But in his Agape costume, the intimidation really fell flat. He looked too much like a baby angel doing his very best to reign down the Lord’s wrath.

“No, he didn’t.” Yuri grounded out. He turned the glare on Viktor. Which was probably code for ‘if you had just told me that you knew my vampire loving parents, then I never would have told fangs that you hated vampires in the first place.’

Viktor was humble enough to at least rub his head apologetically.

“And you must be Yuuri Katsuki! Yurochka’s told us so much about you!” Nina said, happily, going right up to Yuuri to offer him a hug as well. He accepted it, but with a deer in headlights expression. Upon pulling back from the overly familiar embrace, Nina noticed Yuuri’s expression. She patted his shoulder, giving him a wink. “Don’t worry. All good things, all good things. Right, Yura?”

“Don’t talk to me.” Yuri snapped right back, his face pink. “I’m still mad at you two. You’re the reason Grandpa didn’t stay to watch my skate, aren’t you?”

Both Nina and Andrei’s smiles fell.

“Oh, Yura, no. Papa didn’t stay, because…” Nina glanced at Yuuri with upturned, hesitant brows. “Well, because he found out about Yuuri. There would have been a scene.”

“We’re sorry, son. He really did want to stay and watch.” Andrei added, placing a hand on Yuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri’s heart dropped to his stomach. Yuri’s grandfather didn’t stay to watch his Agape skate because Yuuri being a vampire was too much of a potential disaster. It was all Yuuri’s fault.

He watched as Yuri’s glare dissipated, and then his stare dropped to the floor. Yuri then shrugged off Andrei’s hand.

“Whatever.” Yuri grumbled. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Yuuri just felt worse. He looked down at his feet as well.

“Love,” Nina then said, tilting Yuuri’s chin up. “No one blames you. My papa, he’s a loving father and grandfather, but he’s just… set in his ways.”

“I don’t think he’s capable of coming across a vampire without trying to fight it.” Andrei added, trying to make things lighthearted.

“Hey!” Yuri turned on his dad. “Maybe keep that shit on the downlow when we’re in a public place, _da_?”

“Right!” Nina clapped her hands. “Which reminds me! Vitya, would you and Yuuri like to come see Klava with Andrei and I tonight? Klava, I love that woman, but she’s been damn near impossible lately. She’s been demanding to know when you’re going to visit.”

Yuuri tilted his head. He had no idea who Klava was. He looked up to Viktor, to see if it was something that Yuuri should be interested in. Viktor was nodding and smiling, which was a good sign.

“Absolutely. At her place?” Viktor answered.

“I can’t think of any other!” Nina turned to Yuri. “You’ll come too, right?”

Yuri made a face. “Is this the Klava’s place I think it is?”

“The very one.” Andrei said, cheerily.

Yuri gave it some thought. “Gramps won’t like it if I go, right?”

“Likely not.” Andrei answered.

Yuri crossed his arms and leaned on one foot. “Alright. I’ll come. But don’t let anyone talk to me!”

* * *

‘Klava’s place’ wasn’t residential.

In fact, Yuuri was very confused when they showed up at a street corner that only had a Chinese restaurant and a laundromat. Yuuri was also confused as to how someone as human and extroverted as Nina had managed to get the Crispino twins to join them. Well, Sara was probably easy to invite. Michele kept squinting at Nina and Andrei.

The buildings on this old street were all two to three stories high, with apartments over the businesses. So maybe Klava lived upstairs? But here the Crispinos were, and they were all standing in front of the laundromat entrance. Nina and Andrei led the group inside, where the couple greeted the people behind the counter by name.

They trailed to the back, where there was door to a stairway. The door had probably been blue paint at some point. Instead of the stairs leading up to an apartment, as Yuuri half-expected, the rusting metal and concrete stairs led down.

Coming from the bottom of the stairs, Yuuri could hear loud, pounding music. If fast paced dubstep counted as music. The last time Yuuri had been to a place with this type of music, it was when he and Phichit had been invited to a rave. Someone had tried to sell them what looked like candy bracelets, but a street wise friend had steered Yuuri and Phichit away from that potential disaster.

Yuuri gulped and took Viktor’s hand. If Viktor had been here before, and had no problem returning, then it couldn’t be that bad, right? Though, he glanced over his shoulder at Yuri following them down the stairs. Was the teen old enough to be in a place like this?

“The hell you looking at?” Yuri snapped, when he caught Yuuri checking back at him. “Don’t you dare try to treat me like a kid.”

Yuuri was mostly surprised, actually, that Nina and Andrei had let Yuri leave the hotel in a crooked crop-top, ripped up black jeans, and enough eyeliner to look the part of a raccoon. Well, maybe Yuri’s parents were into that whole ‘let kids express themselves’ thing.

They came to the bottom of the stairs, to see exactly what Yuuri had been expecting… and nothing at all like he had been expecting.

Sure, the place was lit only with colorful strobe lights, had bar tables filled with people, and off behind a half-wall there was dance floor. That was where the music was coming from. That much was standard.

But the people there were wearing clothes from every era, it seemed. Yuuri saw everything from dapper suits and hats, to 70s bell bottom jeans… and even a couple people wearing an assortment of mismatched clothes and accessories, in what looked like merchandise from a time traveler’s thrift store. There was also one guy who looked like he had walked here straight from a WW1 trench – complete with ushanka.

And most of the people there were vampires.

It wasn’t as if the music was too loud for Yuuri to miss the sound of any heartbeats. (By the door, it was still easy enough to hear the person standing next to you.) More like, no one was doing anything to hide their vampiric sides. It was a whole crowd of red-eyed corpses, all laughing, mingling, and having fun. No one was making a scene of it.

Even more so, Yuuri saw at least four scantily clad humans perched on the laps of vampires, who were drinking from the humans’ necks. From the looks of it, these humans were perfectly fine with it. They continued to socialize with others at the table, sipping at glasses of water.

“Ah.” Michele said, his expression a twisted mixture of dissatisfied and resigned. “Why did I figure it’d be a place like this?”

Sara swatted at his arm. “Hey, this place looks awesome. Anyone want to dance with me?”

Yuri let out a boastful laugh. “If you want to risk embarrassment by challenging a _Russian_ to dance on his own turf.”

Yuuri blinked. He didn’t remember Sara saying anything about a competition. And why was Yuri throwing a look at Yuuri as if Yuuri had anything to do with there suddenly being a dance competition?

“Boy, I’m _Italian_.” Sara retorted, her palms together and pointed at Yuri. And then she added something in Italian, that no one caught, but Michele snorted behind his hand.

Yuri tipped up his chin. “So?”

“You’re on!”

And then Sara and Yuri disappeared to the dancefloor, on the other side of the club. Andrei followed them – likely as a chaperone. Or not. Who knew with Yuri’s parents.  

“Nina, _lapushka_ _, ty prishel_!”

Those who were not tearing it up on the dancefloor looked over to see a woman in ankle length black and gold dress approaching them. She wore an animal print boa, and her blonde hair was tucked to the side in an elaborate bun. Her lips were a striking red, which stretched expressively with each word she sang out.

Nina squealed and jumped forward to give the woman a hug.

“Klava!” Nina greeted. The women exchanged the rest of their hellos in Russian. When they were done excitedly chirping at each other, Nina gestured to Michele and Yuuri.

“Klava, _ptichka_ , this is Michele Crispino and Yuuri Katsuki. Potential new members for your coven?” Nina winked. She and Klava then giggled behind their hands. “Michele, Yuuri, this is my friend Klavdiya. She owns this place.”

Klava shook hands with Michele and Yuuri, but only out of propriety. She only had eyes for Viktor the moment she spotted him.

“Vitya!” She pulled him into a hug as well. Viktor didn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand, and ended up offering her a one armed, yet still warm, hug in return. “It’s been too long! Years! I was beginning to think that you had forgotten about us!”

“My apologies. I’ve been busy.” Viktor said.

“Yes, yes, with your skating.” Klave put a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. But then her eyes landed on Yuuri. “Speaking of… Yuuri Katsuki. You’re the one who stole our darling Vitya from us.”

“Oh, erm…”

Klava had both hands on her hips then, and she leveled him with a look like she was about to go off. He squirmed under her stare. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting this kind of backlash from Viktor’s home turf. He just hadn’t prepared himself to encounter it at a vampire night club, of all places.

But then Klava grinned.

“You have excellent taste, dear.” She stage-whispered to Viktor – which wasn’t much of whisper at all, save for her saying it behind her hand. To Yuuri, she added, “I’ve seen your, what was it called, Eros? Your Eros routine. Absolutely mesmerizing. What a minxy little fox you are.”

While Yuuri turned ten shades of red, Viktor chuckled, looking down at Yuuri fondly. “Thank you. He is quite the catch, isn’t he? But I would say that he’s the one with excellent taste.” And then Viktor tilted his head, so that Klava could see the pinprick bite marks still healing there.

“Oh! So, the great Nikiforov can be claimed after all!” Klava gasped. She then patted Viktor on the chest, and Yuuri didn’t miss the way her touch lingered. His own chest twisted in a flicker of jealousy. But, when Klava leaned in towards Viktor, he didn’t engage her open flirting. “What a shame, I had been hoping that I’d get a chance to taste you…”

“Klava!” Nina warned with a wide, mildly scandalized smile. “Don’t start trouble already by trying to get in between a blood pair!”

Klava shot back, her hand going to her heart. “I would never!”

“Don’t worry, Yuuri,” Nina laughed, noticing the face Yuuri was making at Klava. “If there’s one thing this crowd will respect, it’s a blood pair claim. Besides, in this establishment, vampires can only drink from _consenting_ humans.”

“She’s right, _lapushka_ ,” Klava nodded. “Not to mention, you might notice that we don’t serve alcohol here. We don’t want any drunks offering their blood, and then end up bleeding to death. I hope you understand, we can’t have emergency responders knowing our location.”

Ah. Yuuri looked around the place again. Klava was right. There wasn’t a bar in sight.

“Anyways, think we can get a room, _ptichka_?” Nina asked, batting her eyelashes at Klava.

“Anything for you, my one love.” Klava flirted back. She promptly led them in a direction away from the dancefloor. Up ahead, Yuuri saw some glass doors to private rooms. There were four in total, and two were already occupied.

As they made their way through the sea of vampires and vampire supportive humans, Yuuri couldn’t help but to notice the way the vampires’ attentions were drawn to Viktor’s presence. So other vampires could smell it too? Viktor’s alluring, expansive scent.

A few of the people in the crowd, both human and vampire, seemed to recognize Viktor; there were some innocent waves and greetings.

But then there were others that looked Viktor up and down, ravenously, with no sexual intention.

A frown snuck its way onto Yuuri’s face. On the one hand, he was preening under the realization that he the great Viktor Nikiforov – revealed to be sought after by humans and vampires alike – all to himself. On the other hand, he didn’t like the way a number of other vampires were standing up, their intention to seduce their way to Viktor’s blood clear in their eyes and posture. Whether they respected consent or not, Yuuri didn’t like anyone staring at Viktor like he was something to eat.

Klava pointed out their room. But before Yuuri and Viktor went inside, Yuuri eyed the rest of the establishment. Making sure that Viktor was angled the right way, Yuuri grabbed his collar down to kiss him. After a moment’s surprised hesitation, Viktor reciprocated happily enough...

… while Yuuri made sure that Viktor’s collar and scarf were pulled down far enough to leave the bitemarks perfectly visible.

If Klava was right, and they would all respect Yuuri’s claim on someone, then they’d better get the message. When Yuuri side glanced over at the crowd, he could see people diverting their stares. Good.

Feeling very pleased with himself, Yuuri leaned back down from the kiss. But Viktor caught him, by wrapping his hands around Yuuri’s – who still had a hold on Viktor’s clothes.

“Marking me as yours?” Viktor asked, trapping Yuuri with his lustful, inviting eyes.

Yuuri’s cheeks warmed, his boldness forgotten.

Viktor smirked at that, and then captured Yuuri in another kiss. “Perfect,” he murmured against Yuuri’s lips. “I want them all to know who I belong to.”

Yuuri’s knees went weak at that. He had to lean into Viktor to walk the rest of the way into the room. He was happy to sit down, tucked under Viktor's arm. The room was soundproof. It had a black table in the center, and then a booth circling around three of the walls. There was duck-tape plastered over the booth, covering up years’ worth of tears and damage.

Yuuri then noticed that Michele had picked a spot quite a distance from Nina.

Michele noticed the rest of them staring. He sighed. “Look, no offense, but I don’t trust humans, okay?”

“Your own experience, or family history?” Klava guessed, wearing, for the first time that night, a very sober expression.

Michele crossed his arms and leaned back into his seat. “Family history.”

It was clear that Michele refused to say anything beyond that. So, until Sara, Yuri, and Andrei returned from their dancing, the conversation was carried mostly by Nina and Klava. When the dancers got back, it was evident from Yuri’s strut that he had won the impromptu dance off. Still, both he and Sara fell into the seats, exhausted. Only Andrei didn’t sit down.

“I’m going to get some waters.” He said. “Yuuri, Michele, Sara, would you like a glass of blood, by chance?”

Yuuri balked.

“No, thank you. We perform tomorrow.” Sara smiled. Michele nodded in assent to her statement.

“Yuuri?” Andrei looked at him.

“Er, I… is that… an actual thing?”

Everyone stared at him, before half the room burst out laughing.

“Yes,” Klava answered through high-pitched giggles, “Yes, _lapushka,_ that is a thing. Just as long as you don’t ask where it’s from!”

There was another pause, and then they were laughing over Yuuri’s horror-struck reaction.

Andrei sighed. “Klava, you’re scaring the poor boy.” He turned to Yuuri. “It’s all voluntarily donated, and kept to proper standards before being served.”

“Oh,” Yuuri shook his head. “No, thank you. I fed before coming to Moscow. I’m good.”

Andrei nodded and left to retrieve the waters. Yuuri checked over at Sara.

“Er, pardon my ignorance… but why turn down feeding before a competition?”

“Oh,” Sara sat up straighter. “You’re alright. It’s because, as true borns, we’re stronger after feeding. When we first started skating, we decided to stop feeding two weeks before each competition, so that we wouldn’t have an unfair advantage.”

Huh. Yuuri thought. That was incredibly considerate. And also a little unfair. Did this mean that true borns could go longer without feeding than risers? And that their only consequence was losing their inhuman strength?

Andrei came back with the waters and passed them around to the humans present.  

“Michele says that your family doesn’t trust humans. That must have taken a great deal of convincing to have them let you two skate competitively.” Klava said to Sara.

“You wouldn’t believe how long it took!” Sara groaned. “I’m turning forty-eight this year, and I started begging Mama to let me skate when I was thirty! She only let me on the condition that Micky skate as well.”

“Oh, dear,” Klava leaned in, tilting her head. “What ever happened to make your family dislike humans that much?”

“Because our Nonna was betrayed by one.” Michele snapped.

The room hushed.

Sara sighed, and then started the tale. “It was during the early 1800s, a decade before Italian unification. Unlike other nations, vampires didn’t _rule_ Italy, because there wasn’t yet an Italy to rule. Most true born families claimed smaller territories, in different regions and cities. The Crispinos were different. Our family kept to themselves. Yes, they kidnapped and murdered people to feed themselves, but I swear Crispinos never took more than they needed.

“Nonna was a good Italian grandmother, of course. She was the matriarch of the family, and she was the one responsible with keeping everyone fed. At that time, Mama had seven siblings, and she and her siblings had spouses. Mama’s older siblings had a few children, but obviously, Micky and I weren’t born yet. It was still a big family.  

“But then one day, my Nonna, in trying to lure a human back home, fell in love with one. Nonna told the family about the woman she had fallen in love with. The family was worried, obviously, that it might not end well, but they trusted Nonna to handle anything. For a while, my Nonna and this human woman were happy.

“Until a rival true born family moved into the area. Even though the Crispinos had no interest in controlling the city they lived in, the other family was convinced that our family were a threat. A fight started. Humans started getting caught in the crossfire. Nonna didn’t want her lover to get hurt, and figured that if the human woman was her blood mate, then the woman would be safe.

“But when my grandmother revealed her true nature to her human lover… the woman was repulsed. She told the local priest of the coven, and the priest had hunters take out the Crispino family. Mama barely made it out alive. She was the only survivor.”

The room was pin-drop quiet, hanging on to Sara’s every word.

“Mama had to move to a completely new area… start over again… find a new husband… When Micky and I were born, Mama told us this story. She told us over and over again, so that we’d understand, so that we’d know that you can’t trust humans.”

“But what does Sara do?” Michele interjected. “She goes and befriends a human! Worse yet, she wants to be blood mates with this human.”

“Micky!” Sara fumed, standing up in Michele’s face. “How many times do I have to keep telling you and Mama? Things are different now!”

“No, things are not different.” He stood up to face her. “Or were you not listening? Katsuki over there nearly got executed for standing up to some stuck up true born.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri in a little closer.

“And are you blind?” Sara gestured at Michele, her hands shaking in ‘ _che cazzo_.’ “Look right there! This same Yuuri is sitting with a _human_. A human who knows exactly what vampires are capable of! If it can work for them, it can work for me!”

“They’re different.” Michele argued.

“Different how?” Sara demanded. “How, Micky?”

Michele threw up his hands. “I don’t know, okay? I just know that I’m supposed to keep you safe.”

Sara waved her hands out, gesturing that she was fed up. “Well, I’m tired of this! I’m tired of living in a system where I have to keep _who I am_ a secret, just because some other fucking true borns want to rule things from the shadows!”

“Amen, girl!” Klava encouraged. “Fight the system!”

Michele threw a glare at Klava, before storming to the door. “I’m going back to the hotel. You finish your naïve little hippie meeting without me.”

And then he left, slamming the glass door behind himself. It was a wonder the glass stayed intact.

All Yuuri knew in that moment, was that Viktor and Yuri’s parents were making more and more sense by the minute. At first, when Yuri had said that his parents supported the idea of vampires going public and demanding equal rights, Yuuri was absolutely terrified by the idea.

Now, though. Now the lines between monster and human had blurred so much, that Yuuri was starting to understand. He understood why true borns like Agent Tanaka felt so threatened by Viktor. Because Viktor and his story were _living proof_ that humans and vampires could get along, despite all odds.

And if humans and vampires could get along, then corrupt true borns could no longer hide in the shadows. Corrupt true borns could no longer use fear as a weapon to control the masses.

Others could openly have what Viktor and Yuuri shared.  

 

If this was a movement, then Yuuri wanted to be a part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> " _Stai zitto, voglio solo fargli una domanda_ " - 'shut up, I only want to ask him a question'  
> tapping on the head - you're crazy/this is crazy  
> " _lapushka, ty prishel_ " - 'darling, you came!'  
> " _ptichka_ " - birdie, a Russian term of endearment, and Nina's favorite thing to call Klava 
> 
> What Sara said in Italian, after Yuri challanged her to a dance off, was something along the lines of 'besides, you're the one who lost to a drunk Japanese man on your so called turf.' A total reference to the Sochi banquet, heeeey!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, there was a draft of this chapter that included a more nsfw scene, before the Rostelecom Cup. I cut it cause the chapter was getting long and the scene seemed to disrupt the flow of the story. But! If anyone is interested, I may consider including the scene in some sort of extra epilogue.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... SO sorry  
> *throws this update at you and runs*

The tension hung in the air after Michele left.

Sara, who was tired of everything except dancing, shot up and demanded a rematch. Yuri followed willingly, leaving the four Russians (Klava, Andrei, Nina, Viktor) and Yuuri in the private room. The conversation turned to idle Russian chatter. While Yuuri had little idea what was being said, he could feel the casual comfort return. This was, after all, a place where vampires and humans alike could let their guard down.

At one point, Klava left to come back with a glass of blood. Seeing the exposed food source, Yuuri tucked himself further into Viktor, and concentrated on the familiar scent of his lover and blood mate to distract him. He had been getting much better lately at resisting the temptation of Viktor’s blood. After that one makeout session during which he had slipped up and left that second bite mark on Viktor’s neck, he and Viktor had been good about waiting to see how Yuuri would score in this competition.

But after a few minutes, Yuuri realized that he didn’t need Viktor as a distraction. Just because there was exposed blood in the room, didn’t mean Yuuri had some monstrous urge to take it. He had fed recently enough that he wasn’t thirsty. For all intents and purposes, Klava could have been holding a hamburger, for how easily Yuuri could ignore that glass.

He relaxed. At that point it came to his attention, glancing outside the glass walls of the private room, that the entire place had smelled like blood. There were a number of vampires in the open area of the club happily sipping away, after all. Yet, with all his focus on taking in this new experience and making sure everyone knew that he and Viktor were together, Yuuri had hardly noticed.

More so, as he watched clubgoers carry on outside of the room, he could see that the vampires also passed each open glass of blood without a second thought. Just as if it was a normal club, no one was trying to steal each other’s ‘drinks.’

This place had Yuuri feeling more and more normal, and accepted, by the second.

A half hour passed before Sara and Yuri came back, this time arguing over whether or not the contest had ended up draw or forfeit. They plopped onto the couch, and Andrei immediately offered his son more water. Yuuri watched the way Andrei insisted on Yuri staying hydrated, and Yuri reluctantly but ultimately accepting the water. It was such a clear moment of familial care.

“Yuuri?” Nina asked, catching Yuuri staring at her boys. He looked up at her, mildly startled, and half-expected her to offer a glass of blood again. “Child, you haven’t said a word all night. Are you having fun?”

“Oh,” Yuuri hadn’t noticed that he had been so quiet. Well, it wasn’t like he was normally a social butterfly, even in his best of moods. This was such a new place and experience after all. “I’m sorry.”

Nina smiled, a motherly smile, as opposed to the smirks or flirtatious looks she had been wearing most of the night. “No need to apologize. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

“I’m not, really. This is… I like it here.” He said this partially to Klava, as well. He offered her a short bow. “Thank you for letting me visit. I didn’t know there were places like this… places that are so…”

“Free?” Klava offered, when Yuuri couldn’t quite decide on the word he wanted in English.

“Yeah.”

“Ah, right. Japan has laws on vampires, doesn’t it? Strict laws? I keep forgetting that your nation’s oligarchy isn’t filled with do-as-they-please true borns, as it is in Russia.”

Yuuri and Viktor and shifted. Klava caught the reaction.

“Oh. It’s not any different there either?” She frowned, miffed. “That’s such a shame.”

Sara sat up at that. “Does this have to do with that true born that tried to kill you, Yuuri?”

The entire room froze. Right. Only Viktor knew about that.

“ _What_?” Yuri snapped, breaking the shock. “The hell? When did this happen?”

Yuuri wasn’t entirely keen on relaying the story a second time in one day. The memory of that pit was still fresh in his mind. He shrunk back. Sensing this, Viktor took over the responsibility of telling everyone what had happened. Viktor was able to keep enough of the emotion out of the retelling that Yuuri didn’t feel too much like he was reliving what happened. It also helped that Viktor was telling it from his own perspective.

But even if Viktor wasn’t visibly worked up – anyone who could hear his heartbeat knew otherwise – the rest of the room reacted overtly. Sara and Nina were entirely sympathetic, offering apologies that weren’t theirs to give. Klava took it upon herself to pick up Sara’s earlier rant, about how stupid the entire system was. Andrei sat shaking his head in a simmering disproval.

Yuri… just stared at Yuuri. The teen’s heart picked up in a pounding rage. Yuuri bet that even a human could feel the anger radiating off of Yuri. It was hard to rationalize why Yuri was so worked up over this. Yuuri had even a harder time reminding himself that Yuri wasn’t directing this anger at Yuuri. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Yuri’s anger. This wasn’t one of those times.

It was… rather sweet. In a, ‘aw, the usually aggressive tiger isn’t trying to maul someone’ kind of way.

Yuri’s anger on Yuuri’s behalf made Yuuri feel both flattered and overwhelmed. It was a little relieving when the skaters had to retire for the night, and Yuuri could escape into the open air.

The men’s skate was at 8am the coming morning, and it was nearing midnight now. The skaters walked back to the hotel in a somewhat group. Viktor and Yuuri held hands while Yuri and Sara walked a few paces in front of them. From what Yuuri could gather of their conversation, Yuri and Sara had found similar ground in talking about Mila. Yuri wanted to share embarrassing stories. Sara wanted to talk about how amazing Mila was. It was a little amusing to watch.

But otherwise, Yuuri’s mind was occupied by other things.

“Viktor,” he glanced up. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything, _lyubov_.” Viktor smiled.

“What did Klava mean… about you being claimed after all?”

“Hmm, were you jealous?”

“Not really.” Yuuri turned his head to the side, to hide his blush.

Viktor chuckled. “Don’t worry, my love, I’m all yours.”

“I know.” Yuuri admitted, a touch of reverence on his tongue. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it, when he woke up and found his long time idol in his arms. Over time, Viktor had stepped down from being a god in Yuuri’s mind, but that didn’t change just how lucky Yuuri felt every moment Viktor chose to spend with him.

Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand and pulled him closer.

“What Klava meant… was that I was never interested in blood pairs, or anything like that.” Viktor paused. “I feel like you might have this impression that I’m very involved in the vampire community. I’m not. I was always focused on skating. As an athlete, I didn’t even consider giving my blood in some sort of... arrangement.”

“Oh. But now that you’re coaching…”

“Yes. Now I can be in a blood pair.”

Yuuri stared at the street, all paved in snow and patches of black ice. There was a little sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Did you ever… think about being in a blood pair? Outside of skating?”

Viktor took a moment to think about that. “I don’t think so. I had only heard of blood pairs. I didn’t know enough about them to want or not want to be in one.”

That was reasonable enough, to not want to be in a blood pair for not knowing exactly what it was. But all Yuuri felt in that moment was the fear that he was trapping Viktor in something that Viktor never wanted to be in the first place. And if he and Viktor kept up this arrangement, did that mean Viktor could never return to skating? Even if Yuuri hardly relied on Viktor’s blood for his survival – and from what he knew of blood pairs, the vampire rarely drank solely from their blood mate, and those who did were true borns who could afford to drink sparingly for the sake of the human’s health – just the idea that they were tied down like this…

Yuuri had been suspecting for awhile that this would be his last season. There was only so long he could keep up this gimmick of trying to navigate humanity as a riser vampire. All he wanted at this point was to medal in a major competition and thus win Viktor’s approval as an equal. If he could do this, then he’d be ready to retire and do something else; what exactly, he wasn’t sure. Just as long as he wasn’t keeping Viktor away from the ice for too long.

Stupid. He hadn’t taken being a blood pair into account.

By the time they reached the room, Yuuri was wordless. He couldn’t hold Viktor’s stare, as he was feeling more and more selfish and reckless by the second.

His phone lit up with a call. It was Mari.

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry,” she started. It pulled Yuuri from his self-loathing and into a new worry. The room span around him as Mari apologized again – for calling so late – and because Makkachin had tried to eat some meat buns. They had taken Makkachin to the vet.

Yuuri relayed the information to Viktor in a rush. At first, Viktor didn’t seem to realize what Yuuri was telling him. The shock took a moment to settle into his features.

“You have to go back to Japan!” Yuuri immediately insisted. “First flight out!”

“I’d… no, Yuuri, I’d miss your skate.”

Yuuri wasn’t paying attention. He was already looking up flight information on his phone. There was a nonstop Aeroflot leaving at 5:15am. That would be a ten hour flight, five hours out from now. That was so long. But the sooner the better.

He shoved the phone in Viktor’s face.

“I can’t leave you without a coach tomorrow.” Viktor argued, pushing the phone away.

“I’ll be fine.”

Viktor’s heavy-hearted reaction said exactly what they both knew. Yuuri would be a mess without Viktor. But if it meant giving Viktor the chance that Yuuri didn’t have, the chance to _be there_ for Makkachin, then Yuuri would make it through.

“Please,” the next thing he had to say, he knew would hurt to say, but it had to be said. “Makkachin has been your family longer than you’ve known me.”

The statement had its desired effect. Viktor relented. He pulled out his own cellphone, to buy the airplane ticket, and to call Yakov.

Yuuri watched in surprise as Viktor begged Yakov to take Yuuri on for just the day. Yakov must have accepted, because as soon as Viktor hung up, he was packing his things. Viktor turned robotic, throwing everything together in a jilted haste.

When they laid down to sleep – Viktor only having a couple hours before he had to head to the airport – neither could manage to close their eyes. The time passed in a surreal haze. Worry over Makkachin made the clock slow down, while the dread of leaving each other made the clock speed up. Had it been ten minutes? Five hours? Only two? They could barely tell.

And then Viktor was out the door, leaving Yuuri awake in a half-empty hotel room.

* * *

 

Yuuri’s arms felt… empty. When he stepped onto the ice for his free skate, that was the only sensation he could name. It was sometime after eight in the morning, and Yuuri couldn’t quite believe that Viktor had only been in the air for three hours.

He skated to a song about love, his arms searching and reaching out for someone miles in the sky. Yuuri skated _alone_ to a song about love, and thought it perfectly poetic how it prepared him for when he would have to let his love go for good.

* * *

 

The score almost missed Yuuri’s attention, as did Yakov’s post-skate lecture. The world glided by around Yuuri. It wasn’t until someone nicked him in the shin that he even realized Yuri was trying to talk to him.

“Oi, Batface! Earth to Batface!”

Yuuri squinted at Yuri. The insult ‘batface’ took a moment for his tired, anxious brain to comprehend. He was barely able to function in Japanese, much less in English. Oh, because fictional vampires turned into bats. Huh. Yuuri couldn’t decide if that was clever or not.

“What’s with you stealing Yakov today? And what the heck are you moping around for?” Yuri demanded, once Yuuri was more or less following what was being said. That was right. Viktor had told Yakov that he was going back to Japan, but had said little beyond that.

“Viktor’s dog is sick… and he might not make it.” Yuuri explained.

A flash of sympathy passed Yuri’s face, before he frowned again. “Who might not make it? The dog, or Viktor?”

“Makkachin.” Yuuri faltered, upon seeing Yuri’s incredulous judgment. He felt like he had given the wrong answer.

Yuri crossed his arms, his expression turning dark. “Okay, so let me make sure I understand this. You sent Viktor back to Japan, _alone_ , knowing that there’s some homicidal true born after the both of you?”

Yuuri’s heart dropped from his chest.

“What if this is a trap?” Yuri continued, getting right up in Yuuri’s face.

“No…” Yuuri protested, weakly. “My sister called me, she told me…”

“Yah huh. And what if she was forced to?”

“There’s… someone guarding my family right now… they couldn’t…” But there was nothing Yuuri could think of to really reassure him against this dangerous possibility.

“I have to go.”

* * *

 

Well, he couldn’t leave just then.

Yuuri couldn’t afford to buy a plane ticket on the fly. Not like Viktor could. That, and he and Viktor had already purchased a round trip. As well-sponsored as Viktor was, it didn’t make sense to Yuuri to throw away all the money spent on their nonrefundable tickets. It was absolutely agonizing, but Yuuri had to wait until the pre-scheduled flight.

Throughout the medal ceremony, where Yuuri tried to be supportive of Yuri’s silver, Yuuri fazed in and out of reality. Afterwards, he followed Yuri around like a lost poppy. He sent at least a dozen texts to Viktor, each some variant of ‘let me know when you land’ or ‘is everything alright?’

Yuri grew more and more pissy with Yuuri’s moping. The teen took out his anger by yelling at JJ – who stole to first place, which Yuuri barely registered – and berating the world for being so stupid. While Yuuri slowly tried to absorb himself into the walls and floors, Yuri stomped around. At some point, Yuuri noticed that, not once, did Yuri accuse him of being an idiot for sending Viktor back to Japan. Not like Yuuri would argue the accusation.

When all other anger management techniques didn’t work out, Yuri resorted to aggressive texting. Yuuri had no idea who Yuri was talking to, or about what, but at that point Yuuri was too overwhelmed to take on another concern.

And then Yuri’s Grandpa came to pick Yuri up, and once again Yuuri was left alone with his thoughts. That was the point he started vibrating if he didn’t have somewhere to go or something to do. Bags: packed. Hotel room: checked out. Yuuri re-organized his suitcase twice, out in the hotel lobby, while waiting for his taxi. Get in a taxi to the airport. Race through the airport. Sit in the gate and call Viktor’s phone, even though Yuuri knew that Viktor was probably still on airplane mode. Viktor would be touching down in Tokyo soon.

It wasn’t that smart of a decision, to call Viktor. Hearing it go right to voicemail didn’t make Yuuri feel any better. He paced the gate until boarding call.

The person who had the misfortune of sitting next to Yuuri on the plane kept a notable distance between the two of them. Yuuri spent the entire flight flipping between the magazines, not reading a single word, or fidgeting with his hands, or rocking his head in his hands, occasionally muttering to himself. It was rather impressive how the person next to him could spend an entire cross-continent flight, stuck in tiny economy seats, without once touching Yuuri.

He had to sit there for hours. _Hours_. 

The second Yuuri was allowed to, once in Tokyo, he turned off airplane mode. He gripped his phone in trembling hands, waiting, until all missed messaged came through. Yuuri had to make sure he had every single message possible. It felt far, far too long.

There were two messages from Viktor. One was a picture of a happy, healthy Makkachin, and then the next was a text saying ‘I’m here. I miss you too.”

Yuuri’s hands stopped trembling as he reread the text. Hearing from Viktor brought on a calm that salved over all the agony of waiting. It was also so heartwarming to know that Viktor was also thinking of Yuuri. At least Viktor interpreted the incessant texts and calls as ‘I miss you’ and not as ‘shit, I think you might die.’

Now expecting better results, Yuuri called Viktor.

It went to voicemail.

Yuuri tried again. Voicemail.

Yuuri left a message the second time. His voice shook as he informed Viktor that he had landed in Japan, and then gave an ETA for when he’d be at Fukuoka Airport.

From there, Yuuri had to wait the extra half hour between his connecting flights. He found an airport McDonalds, where he consumed his stress with two large fries. (He was far too used to American sizes, at this point, and one Japanese large just didn’t do it for him anymore.) It wasn’t like the fries actually appealed to him; he had to dump extra salt on them to make them palatable. He just desperately needed a way to distract himself.

Distract himself from the fact that Viktor never contacted him back.

Yuuri came up with all sorts of excuses as to why Viktor wouldn’t call back right away. After all, it had only been half an hour. Yuuri wasn't some possessive boyfriend who demanded immediate responses all the time, right?

But in the end, he turned on airplane mode again, feeling all the more keyed up than he did on the previous flight. That second flight, the person next to him actually requested to sit somewhere else.

* * *

 

No one was there at Fukuoka arrivals to meet Yuuri.

Viktor still hadn’t called him back.

At this point, it was only through sheer force of will that Yuuri’s internal screaming hadn’t been vocalized. Nighttime had fallen over the airport, edging into the early morning, and it came with the sluggish movement of people who had just spent all day on stiff seats. Yuuri’s nerves stood out like a sore thumb. People kept their distance from him at baggage claim. Three times when an airport employee tried to help him, recognizing his distress, he couldn’t even bring himself to politely refuse. The third time, Yuuri could only manage a choked squawk of a noise before he backed away.

Yuuri paced until his bag was in hand, and then shot like a bullet to the adjourning train station. He almost dropped his wallet as he paid for his train ticket. On the train, his airplane boarding pass turned into confetti in his nervous hands.

The moment the train doors opened to his destination, Yuuri ran home faster than he had ever run in life. In what was usually a half hour powerwalk, Yuuri was at Yu-Topia in eight or so minutes.

There weren’t any government issued cars out front. The onsen was open. When Yuuri got inside, he could hear guests chatting away carelessly. Nothing was off. He didn’t smell or hear anything that shouldn’t be there.

But instead of reassuring him, the lack of sudden activity only heightened his anxiety. He still had no idea what was going on or why Viktor wasn’t answering the phone.

Yuuri raced through the building, up the stairs, to Viktor’s room. He could recognize a comforting scent, drawing him in faster. Viktor was here. But Viktor hadn’t come to the airport, or met him at the door, and neither had Makkachin.

What happened, what happened, what –

Yuuri threw open the door to Viktor’s room… and was enveloped by a soft heartbeat and the shared scents of a sleeping Viktor and Makkachin.

Oh.

Relief skipped over Yuuri, as he couldn’t quite take in the good sight. Then Viktor let out a soft, human snore, and relief came back to Yuuri to settle like a warm drink on a cold night. The shaking in Yuuri’s limbs ceased, the weight on his chest lifted.

After throwing off his backpack, Yuuri went over to the bed and sat down next to Viktor. He ran his hand through Viktor’s mussed, in need of a shower hair. Viktor shifted, groaned, before his eyes cracked open to see who was there. The second his eyes focused on Yuuri, Viktor shot up. Yuuri had to pull back to avoid getting knocked into by Viktor’s flying long limbs.

“Yuuri!” Viktor cried. “Oh, shit, Yuuri, I… I got your voicemail, but I forgot to call back, and then I fell asleep, I’m so sorry I… why are you laughing? Yuuri, are you _crying_?”

Yuuri rubbed at his eyes, his shoulders shaking in his hysteric relief. He threw himself into Viktor’s arms. Of course. Why was Yuuri so worried? Viktor had just missed sleep for nearly 48 hours.

“I’m just so happy you and Makkachin are okay.”

Viktor wrapped Yuuri close, so that Yuuri was just about sitting on top of Viktor. Makkachin, now awake and happy to see Yuuri, crawled in to settle on the humans’ laps.

They held onto each other like their love created the air they breathed. All those hours of empty arms, standing on the edge of the cliff, all that was forgotten. All that mattered was how Viktor's embrace always made Yuuri feel secure. 

“I’ve been thinking about what I can do for you as a coach.” Viktor said.

“Huh?” Yuuri was thrown.

It took him a moment to remember that he had never told Viktor why he had been freaking out over the phone that entire day. Viktor’s head was entirely somewhere else. No danger here. But it wasn’t like Yuuri hadn’t thought of the subject. Though, it felt like forever ago, that moment he had realized he would have to let Viktor go, both as a coach and blood mate. “Oh. I have too.”

Viktor titled his head, waiting for Yuuri to continue.

Yuuri searched for the right words. Surely Viktor already knew that Yuuri planned to retire, right? Viktor’s offer to coach him was contingent on Yuuri winning a gold medal at the Grand Prix Final. It was just a matter of asking for Viktor to take care of him for the rest of the season, as well. So, Yuuri said, “Please take care of me until I retire.”

Viktor kissed the top of Yuuri’s head. “Sounds like a marriage proposal.”

Ah. That was a nice thought.

And then Viktor had to add, “I hope you never retire.”

No. No, Yuuri wanted to say. You don’t know what you’re asking for. Viktor couldn’t dedicate his entire mortal life to Yuuri. He just couldn’t.

“You must be tired.” Yuuri said, holding back tears and desperately changing the subject.

“Very much so, yes. You must be too. And it’s late. Rest, my sleeping beauty.”

* * *

 

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Viktor started getting restless. Makkachin was already scratching at the door of their room.

“Ah, Makka,” Viktor sat up, his accent heavy as it tended to be early in the morning. “You almost kick the bucket and all you can care about now is going on a walk?”

Jetlag had caught up to Yuuri; the idea of going outside right now did not appeal to him in the slightest. He rolled over and threw an arm over Viktor’s legs.

“Ten more minutes.” Yuuri grumbled.

Viktor chuckled. “No, you need more sleep. Besides, it looks like it’s going to be a sunny day.”

Yuuri forced the sleep from his head. He sat up. “No. I have to come with you.”

Viktor frowned. “Yuuri… is everything okay?”

Still at the door, Makkachin let out an impatient whine. Yuuri looked down and toyed with the sheets.

“I… I thought you were in danger. For returning to Japan alone. You know. With what's been going on.”

“Oh.” Viktor then caressed Yuuri’s chin, bringing Yuuri’s eyes to meet his own. “I’m alright. You’re alright. I think I can go take Makkachin for a walk.”

When Yuuri wasn’t convinced, Viktor reached over and grabbed his phone from the charging cord. “How about this. I’ll keep my phone out at all times, and Makka and I will only stay in public areas.”

Yuuri thought that over. He was really tired, and Makkachin had started to make little ruff noises. A sign that the dog really had to pee.

“Okay.” Yuuri relented.

Viktor gave Yuuri a quick peck on the lips before heading out with Makkachin. If it weren’t for the potential danger of the whole situation, Yuuri would feel all warm with how domestic it felt.

‘ _Sounds like a marriage proposal_.’

Only in Yuuri’s wildest dreams would he ever think of having such a privilege. But now that Viktor had put a more solid idea in his head, he couldn’t shake it off. Yuuri laid back down, now fantasizing about it. Maybe years from now, when both he and Viktor were retired, Yuuri would find Viktor and see if Viktor was still interested.

Happily musing, Yuuri slipped back into sleep.

* * *

 

Yuuri woke up to the ping of his cell phone. He pulled it off the charging cord – absently realizing that he had never plugged it in last night, and that meant Viktor must have done as such for him – and checked the time. An hour had passed. It didn’t look like Viktor was back yet. Or maybe he was downstairs.

There was a message from Viktor; a picture of Hasetsu Castle, backdropped by the sunrise. Yuuri smiled. He then read the most recent text and his smile fell.

‘Call me.’

Yuuri hit the call button. The phone picked up in two rings.

“Viktor – ”

“Nikiforov-san is not available to speak right now.”

If Yuuri was still human, he felt like he would have been sick in that moment. Agent Tanaka’s voice sparked a barrage of emotions within Yuuri: terror, rage, despair.

“What have you done with him?” Yuuri demanded. He wanted to sound threatening. It came out more like a plea. He steeled himself, channeling all his anger. “Tell me right now!”

“Ah, ah, don’t be so aggressive.” Tanaka answered, having the gall to scold Yuuri for bad etiquette in a hostage situation. “I have done nothing to him, and I intend on sending him back… if you follow through on my instructions.”

Yuuri shook, the hand not holding the phone tightening into a white-knuckled fist. His lungs, although he didn’t need air, kept contracting, anticipating the panic. He was so fucking tired of this. And scared. He did not want to negotiate, but it seemed he had little choice.

“What instructions?”

“You are to meet us in the construction room in Hasetsu Castle. Do you know where that is?”

There was a part of the Castle’s interior being renovated, for restoration purposes. “Yes.”

“Good, good.” Tanaka’s smug grin was audible, and Yuuri felt like gagging. “Come alone. Do not tell anyone. Don’t even try contacting that treacherous Nakamura. I assure you, he’s been taken care of.”

“What did you – ”

“Calm yourself.” Tanaka scolded again. “I only intend to return Nikiforov if you do as your told.”

Yuuri swallowed back further protest. “What else do I need to do?”

“That’s better. As I said, come alone. And then… I think you know what I want.”

Yuuri did. There was no mistaking what Tanaka wanted out of this.

In all honesty, Yuuri didn’t want to die. There were so many things he had yet to do. Hell, he was almost 24.

But… if it were for Viktor… perfect, radiant Viktor, who was beloved by the world… Yes. Yuuri knew, he would give up his life for Viktor’s. It wasn’t even a question whose life meant more, in the grand scheme of things.

After all… Viktor had to be set free in the end, one way or another. It would hurt Viktor now, to lose Yuuri. And Yuuri felt sick for making Viktor go through that again, the loss of a loved one. But this wasn’t a life Viktor should live. He shouldn’t have to be dragged into the world of vampires again and again, just because Yuuri selfishly wanted to keep Viktor by his side.

“Do you swear not to hurt Viktor if I cooperate?” Yuuri said, coming to his decision.

“I swear.” Tanaka answered. “I expect you soon, Katsuki."

* * *

 Yuuri found his family working in peace. The onsen was to open shortly, so Toshiya was prepping in the kitchen, while Hiroko and Mari were making sure the guest areas were clean. It was such a calm, untouched moment. Yuuri didn’t want to force them through a repeat of the last time Agent Tanaka wanted Yuuri dead.

“Mom?” Yuuri asked, causing her to pause in wiping down tables. “Viktor wants me to join him on his walk with Makkachin. We… I might be out for a bit.”

“Alright.” Hiroko smiled, yet she was visibly confused as to why Yuuri was announcing this to her. “It’s very sunny outside. Stay safe, alright?”

Yuuri offered a smile in return. He tried to appear casual. “Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“Of course.”

Before he left the house, Yuuri left a note in his room. In the note, he apologized for not being able to say goodbye properly. He thanked his family for all their love and support. He never would have adjusted to life as a vampire so well if it wasn’t for how well they accepted him. 'Sayonara,' he concluded the note. 

And then Yuuri went through those old motions of pulling on his hoodie, gloves, mask, sunglasses. Outside, he stopped to turn around and look up at the house. It was easier and harder this time. On the one hand, last time, he didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. He wasn’t allowed to take a moment to stand outside Yu-Topia, one last time, to memorize the nostalgic architecture.

Yet this didn’t change the fact that Yuuri felt like his life was getting cut short. But it wasn't like Yuuri could keep escaping death. In that alley in America. When the Detroit Patrollers first discovered his change. That pit. Yuuri could only run from fate so many times.

Nevertheless, he planned to walk to Hasetsu Castle – take his time with the town that had raised him.

No one knew he was doing this. It felt lonely.

Yuuri turned around to see a taxi pulling up to the front of Yu-Topia. At first, Yuuri’s brows dipped, trying to see who was in the car. When, of all people, Yuri Plisetsky climbed out of the backseat, Yuuri’s jaw dropped. From the side of the car came a pepper bearded old man.

“Ah, great, I got here before you did anything stupid.” Yuri said, by way of greeting. He threw the car door shut behind him. “Don’t blame me for being late. It took some time to convince Gramps.”

Yuri gestured to the old man who joined him in front of Yu-Topia. Now that Yuri pointed it out, there was a family resemblance. Notably, this resemblance was in the way Grandpa Plisetsky glared daggers at Yuuri. Right, because Grandpa Plisetsky thought all vampires were irredeemable monsters. The fact that Yuuri was in his presence and still alive was not taken for granted.

What the hell did Yuri say to convince his grandfather to travel all the way to Japan to help Yuuri?!

“Where’s the other idiot?” Yuri looked around himself.

Yuuri closed and opened his mouth a few times. The face mask hid this. He was still staring in wonder at Grandpa Plisetsky, and had now just noticed a leather sheath on the old man’s belt. The shape of it was obvious.

“That’s a machete.” Yuuri found his voice.

Yuri glanced back at his Grandpa’s weapon, and then back at Yuuri, baffled. “What’s with you and knives, Fangs?”

“How did you get a machete in Japan?!” Yuuri freaked, checking around himself to make sure no one noticed the armed and clearly dangerous foreigner. The taxi was still parked out front. How had the driver not noticed any of this?

“He doesn’t know English.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “And I asked you a question. Where’s Viktor?”

The presence of a vampire hunter cause the entire situation to crash upon Yuuri. He started hyperventilating. Useless air went in and out of his ever-tightening throat. Yuri grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey, hey. What the hell happened?”

“He has him. He’s got Viktor.” Yuuri panted.

“Shit. And what? Were you just planning in on running in and, doing what? Giving yourself up?”

Yuuri looked off, still trying to find the breath that he didn’t need.

That’s when Yuri slapped him.

Yuuri stood in wide-eyed shock. His hood and mask were thrown askew, the sunglasses flown off. Already the sunlight was hitting his skin like flames. Yuri grabbed the front of Yuuri’s hoodie and got up in his face.

“You fucking idiot! Don’t you dare!” Yuuri’s shout and the pain grounded Yuuri. He focused on the rage in Yuri’s eyes. “Don’t you dare do that to Viktor! If you do, I’ll never forgive you!”

With that, Yuri let go, and then went to grab Yuuri’s sunglasses. Yuuri fixed his face mask and hood. Yuri shoved the sunglasses at Yuuri. His skin still stung a little.

“Let’s go.” Yuri turned towards the taxi.

“Wait! I’m not supposed to bring anyone with me!”

“You think I wouldn’t guess that?” Yuri sneered over his shoulder. “Gramps has dealt with this kind of thing before. We just need a plan for this.”

“Allow me to help you.”

The three all whipped around to see Agent Nakamura turning the left corner fence to Yu-Topia’s front lot. The agent was hunched over, gripping his arm. Through his fingers, Yuuri could see and smell blood. A bullet wound.

“Nakamura-san!” Yuuri exclaimed, before rushing over. “What happened?”

Nakamura grunted, and then answered in Japanese. “What do you think? Tanaka ordered his men to kill me, outside the law, of course. But I knew he would try, so I’ve been wearing a bullet proof vest.”

Yuuri translated for Yuri, who offered an abridged Russian version for his Grandpa. The older Plisetsky then said something in Russian. Yuri relayed it back as, “he can’t help us if he’s bleeding like that.”

“I know. They’ll smell me coming.” Nakamura switched to English. He then pulled some car keys out of his pocket. “But I have some things that might help.”

“We do too.” Yuri said. He ran back to the taxi, where the driver got out and politely opened the trunk. The two pulled a suitcase out, which Yuri brought back to the others. They all situated themselves around the suitcase so that passerbys could not see what was inside. And good thing too.

“H-how…” Yuuri’s jaw returned to the ground. “This is an armory! How did you get it in Japan?”

On one side of the suitcase were neatly packed clothes and toiletries, seemingly good for a couple days. The other side was strapped with pistols, knives, holy water, a wooden stake sharpened to a point even deadly for humans, and a Bible.

Yuuri stared at Grandpa Plisetsky in absolute astonishment. Who even was this guy?

“Gramps knows some people, let’s just leave it at that. We don’t have time to waste.” Yuri snapped. He looked up at Nakamura. “What do you have to offer?”

Agent Nakamura guided them over – slowly, and with support from Yuuri – to that abandoned neighboring lot to show them the armory he had in his government issued vehicle. Yuuri remembered the car from that ride back home. He could see the Buddha dash figure through the windshield. Inside the trunk were even more knives and guns, as well as some things that looked like grenades. Most of the space, however, was taken up by paper blessings, other calligraphed pieces, wooden staffs, and little bottles of both clear and amber liquids.

It was one of these little bottles that Nakamura selected to show them. “This is holy oil.”

“Ah, shit, this is perfect!” Yuri grabbed for the bottle.

Yuuri looked between the both of them in confusion.

“This is a hostage situation, correct?” Nakamura explained. “We can’t send you in there, firing our guns, because Nikiforov-san might be used as leverage, or a human shield.”

Yuuri shuddered at the thought.

“So,” Nakamura brought them in for a huddle, “here’s what we’re going to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're mad at me for making you wait nearly two months and then only offering an emotional roller coaster with no end in sight... honestly... same.


End file.
